Prior Rings: A Determinant Story
by Windchimed
Summary: "So, are you nervous?" Zeke asks as he adjusts my bow tie just a touch. "No," I answer simply. And it's true. I have never been more certain of anything than I am about marrying Tris. This story is a sequel of sorts to my "Determinant" fic. It covers Tris & Tobias' year apart plus their reconciliation, engagement, wedding, kids & more. Give it a try! :-)
1. Chapter 1: Anna – Engaging

**_A/N: This story is a sequel of sorts to my "Determinant" alternate third book. It loosely follows two rings from Tris' grandparents through the twists and turns of ending up on Tris and Tobias' fingers. It's mostly set during the later part of "Determinant," though the first chapter is set much earlier than that._****_ If you're anxious to see Tobias, don't worry - he's in Chapter 2. _**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own "Divergent" or "Insurgent" or "Allegiant" or the characters, dialogue, plot lines, etc. in those books. All of that belongs to Veronica Roth. Also, t**__**his story is only consistent with some of VR's writing ("Divergent," "Insurgent," "Free Four: Tobias Tells the Divergent Knife-Throwing Scene," and "Four: The Transfer: A Divergent Story").**_

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**Chapter 1: Anna – Engaging**

Douglas looks exceptionally handsome tonight. It's difficult to say why, since he's wearing the same black clothes he usually does, with his brown hair brushing the collar in the back and almost hanging into his eyes in the front. But those eyes shine more than they normally do, their deep green alive with joy. Not that he isn't happy in general – it's just that he tends to be more thoughtful, reflecting his Erudite roots. It's nice to see this level of delight in him.

"Where are we going tonight?" I ask. He's been dropping contradictory hints all week, so we could be doing pretty much anything.

"You'll find out, Anna," he says, grinning as he frames my face in his hands, running his thumbs lightly over my cheeks before leaning down to kiss me. It's still difficult for me to get used to this type of open affection, after growing up in Abnegation, but I love him too much to object. Besides, I'm Dauntless now, and after two years in this faction, it's certainly time for my habits to change.

"Come on," he says eagerly, grabbing my hand and tugging me with him into a run. That's something I love about living here – there's so much energy in our daily life compared with the sedate pace of my previous faction. At moments like this, I'm glad I transferred, though I still wonder if I would have if my mother hadn't died. As much as I love my father and sister, I couldn't get myself to stay for them, but for Mom? I probably would have.

Douglas leads me to the tracks, where a train is already passing by. He increases his pace at the sight, dragging me with him, and it's obvious he wants us to get on board. Personally, I'm doubtful we have time, but I race as fast as I can anyway, and to my surprise, we're able to leap onto the last car.

We're the only ones in it, and I grin at Douglas, knowing what he'll do. Sure enough, he lies down casually across the front of the opening, forming a human barrier between me and the ground zooming by us. I sit beside him, leaning on his hip as I watch the passing scenery. I don't even remember how we started this routine, but it's effective at preventing my motion sickness while allowing us to stay close. For his part, Douglas says he loves the way it leaves my hands free to explore. And the part of me that has thoroughly embraced my adopted faction does exactly that.

"Are you going to tell me yet?" I ask him, one hand moving under his shirt and tracing circles on his stomach.

"Not a chance," he laughs. "But I'll give you a hint." I raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if this will be a real hint or not, given all the contradictions he's told me this week.

His eyes twinkle in amusement as he adds, "Pay attention to the shape of our route."

That isn't a terribly helpful statement, since I don't even know which train we're on and therefore don't know its route, but I assume it means we'll be riding for a while. I'll just have to wait and see where we go.

It's a beautiful fall day, with the sun shining from a blue sky and colors filling the trees we pass. We make our way gradually around the city, following the fence as it flows in a giant circle, enclosing the buildings that form four out of our five factions. Amity, of course, is located outside the city walls so there's adequate room to grow food, feed the livestock, and process our drinking water.

"Any guesses yet?" Douglas asks me as we approach an old building that I consider to be one of the hidden gems in our city. It used to house an art gallery, back in the days before war claimed so much of the world's population and left us isolated here. For whatever reasons, when it was abandoned, all of the statues were left in place. Perhaps they were too heavy to move, or maybe there was simply no one left to appreciate them, but they've remained there ever since.

Douglas took me there for our first date, over a year ago, and it's not hard to figure out that he's taking me back there now. I smile at him.

"Hmm, no idea," I tease him, moving my hand down lower and chuckling as his breath catches.

"Anna, you're going to be the death of me," he murmurs as he pulls my hand away from him with obvious reluctance. "But it's time to get off." He clears his throat. "Of the train, that is." I laugh.

Climbing to my feet, I take hold of the grab bar with one hand and offer the other to my boyfriend. He grasps it instantly, pulling himself up and watching the terrain as we approach the best spot to jump.

We leap together, our bodies twisting through the air in the wonderful dance that is Dauntless before we land, hitting the ground hard. It's automatic at this point to run forward a few steps to spread our momentum, and neither of us falls. Our hands are still linked as we come to a stop, grinning from the rush of adrenaline. I don't think I'll ever get tired of that.

Douglas takes the lead again, and I let him, even though it's obvious at this point where we're going.

The old art gallery is well lit at this time of day, with sunlight flooding through the yellowing glass of its many windows. The columns of light reflect beautifully off the statues, though they also highlight the dust particles floating through the air. I sneeze.

Douglas smirks at me. "I think you've just proven that the Abnegation are allergic to art."

"And dusty old schoolbooks," I add, straight-faced. "Which makes it difficult to hang out with a former Erudite like you."

He bumps me with his shoulder. "You love me anyway," he murmurs.

"That I do," I answer, still keeping my poker-face. "But only because you showed me this place. Otherwise, you know, I could take you or leave you."

He laughs. "Yes, I noticed how much you loved that one particular statue last time…." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, but I don't need the reminder to know which one he's referring to. That particular piece was rather eye-opening for someone from my birth faction.

"No," I comment, "that one was definitely _your_ favorite. Mine was this one over here…." He follows a step behind me as I work my way across the dusty floor to the massive sculpture I remember admiring for so long on our previous trip. It displays a waterfall that splashes down into a small lake, with two figures standing near where the waters crash together. Something about their pose struck me before – barely touching, yet with so much love evident between them. I suppose they reminded me of my parents.

As I look at them this time, an odd reflection catches my attention, and I realize that one of the figures has a ring perched carefully on her outstretched palm. It's a simple gold band with a small but elegant diamond on it, and for a moment, I can't imagine what it's doing here.

The answer strikes me at the same time Douglas drops to one knee.

"Anna," he says softly, holding my eyes with his as he gently takes my hand. "I know this will sound cliché, but I have been in love with you since the first moment I saw you. You have made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and there is _nothing_ I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you…please…marry me?"

He bites his lip, his expression such a mix of adoration and confidence and nervousness all at the same time that I can't help but smile.

"Oh, get up, you idiot," I whisper, my grin spreading ear to ear despite the tears I can feel building in my eyes. "Of course I'll marry you."

He startles me by picking me up on his shoulder and spinning me around, crowing in wild, infectious joy, before he puts me down and kisses me. I'm almost laughing too hard to respond, but the feel of him against me is impossible to ignore, and soon we're kissing more deeply than we ever have before. I can't quite believe this is real. We're together. We're truly, permanently together. I have never been happier.

"I do have one request, though," I murmur as he slides the ring onto my finger. His green eyes meet mine curiously, and I bite my lip, feeling oddly nervous.

"Can we keep my last name?" I blurt it out before adding the explanation. "It reminds me of my mother."

If anything, his smile grows deeper. "I fell in love with everything about you, Anna Prior," he says unwaveringly. "Including your name. Why _wouldn't_ I want to keep that?"

* * *

It's not until we're most of the way back to the Dauntless compound that I figure out his comment from earlier in the day. We rode the train in a circle, stopping at the hidden gem so he could propose. I never would have thought it possible, but somehow my wonderful boyfriend turned the whole city into an engagement ring.

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**_A/N: The rest of this story is set during Tris and Tobias' time, starting during the year that passes _****_between Chapters 44 and 45 of my "Determinant" story_****_. If you haven't read that yet, please do so before reading Chapter 2 here or you'll be very confused..._**

_**Also, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your feedback means so much.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Tobias - Revelation

_**A/N: If you haven't read my "Determinant" alternate third book, please do that before you read this chapter. Seriously!**_

_**For the rest of you, this is the first of a series of chapters (probably at least five) that are set between c**hapters 44 and 45 in "Determinant" (during the time when Tris and Tobias are apart). As you might be able to guess from that timing, this stretch of "Prior Rings" will be very heavy in angst. But it is leading somewhere...****_

**Chapter 2: Tobias – Revelation**

"Do you have a little time, Four?" Zeke asks in too casual a tone as I enter the gathering room. I look at him suspiciously, noticing that he's sitting with Uriah and Christina, who both look extremely nervous. Shauna is to the side of them, moving herself back and forth slightly in her wheelchair as she purses her lips in aggravation. This can't be good.

"What's up?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and standing rigidly in place. I just finished a rough therapy session with Amar, so I'm already in a bad mood, and I can't imagine it will be improved by hearing whatever has the four of them looking like this.

"It can wait," Uriah says quickly, but Christina jabs him hard in the ribs.

"He has something to tell you," she says firmly, glaring at him before looking at me. "That you need to know before you decide if he can move in here or not."

I'm liking this less and less. I already told them all that I was fine with Uriah joining our mini-faction. In fact, I specifically said I liked the idea. But obviously they think that I might change my mind after I hear this.

"Just spit it out," I growl.

Uriah runs a hand along the back of his neck the way I do when I'm nervous. It's a habit he probably picked up from my broadcast, like how Christina and Cara both bite their lips now the way Tris always did. Probably still does.

"Um…" he begins, "it's…um…about something that happened before I left Philadelphia." My insides freeze with a sudden suspicion. _No._ Please tell me this isn't going where I think it's going….

Uriah swallows hard. "You know that Tris was really broken up when you left, right?" He looks at me defensively, but I don't respond. Of course I know that. I hate what I did to her. I hate everything about it. But I was more afraid of what might have happened if I'd stayed.

"Well," he continues, shifting his gaze to his hands, "It bothered me to see her like that. She deserved better, you know?" He shrugs, still staring down, and I still don't answer. I don't think I'm capable of speaking right now.

"And you know I've always liked her." The words dig into me, reinforcing my earlier suspicion, and I can feel sweat prickling on my forehead. He looks up defiantly. "She was in one of my simulations, so you know it's true. You saw it."

"Get on with it," Zeke says shortly, his voice rough. I'm not sure whether to feel grateful for his interference or not.

"Fine," Uriah says more quietly. "Well, I just thought that if you couldn't get your shit together and go back to her, she should at least know that she has options. So, I told her how I feel." _No no no no no…. This can't be happening._

"And then I kissed her."

I don't think I move. I don't think I'm even breathing anymore. As far as I can tell, the world has ended, and I'm just frozen in the space it used to occupy. But my perceptions must be off, judging by how Zeke suddenly has his hands pressed firmly against my chest and by how Christina is yelling at me to take a walk, to get out, to just get out of here for now. The words finally reach my brain, and then I'm stumbling blindly out of the room and out of the building and who knows where from there.

I have no sense of time. My feet march beneath me, covering what could be blocks or miles in an endless stream of steps as the same image burns in front of my eyes. His lips pressed to hers. His arms around her. His body against hers. There's no air left in this universe.

_Tris is mine!_ The thought is so savage it scares me, reminding me of a hundred other cries of jealousy spouted out at my support meetings. She's not _mine_. I know she's not. Even if I hadn't left her, she doesn't _belong_ to anyone. She's free to do what she wants. But oh how I want her to be mine.

And Uriah was only in Philadelphia for a month longer than I was. I'm nowhere near ready to move on, but Tris was kissing someone else just weeks after I left? The thought practically digs flesh out of me.

This wasn't supposed to happen. I've been working so hard at this stupid support program, trying to get to where I can trust myself, to where I can be with Tris again. But she doesn't even want that. And why would she, when she can have Uriah? Kind, handsome Uriah who would never hit her, would never abandon her. How can I ever compete with _him_?

It's hard to say how many times I return to my faction, not even sure what I want except to somehow hear that it's all a joke, that it never happened, that _his_ lips never touched _hers_. But each time Christina sends me away again, telling me to keep walking it off. As if it's possible to walk enough to lose these feelings.

Eventually, I realize I need to hit something, and if I can't use the exercise room at home, I know where there's another one. My feet find it on their own, storming into Dauntless as if I'm hoping that someone will try to stop me. Any excuse for a fight. But I must look terrifying, because no one gets in my way even in the faction of the brave. Instead, they let me pass, muttering behind me as I pound the familiar old path to the training room and rip into the largest punching bag they have.

I hit it again and again until my hands are bleeding and sweat is pouring down my body and my limbs are trembling and barely able to move. And still the image is pressing into my mind, the thought of their bodies intertwining.

Out of some old habit, I head back to my former apartment, the place I lived for two years. But the door is locked, and I realize someone else must live here now. Briefly, I think it must be Uriah, taking something else of mine, but it's a stupid thought.

I make my way up to the Pire, glaring at anyone who looks at me, and I'm almost out of the building when I stop, turning around to satisfy some inner desire for even more pain. _The fear landscape room is right there._

It's not surprising that no one has changed the codes to the storage closet or the computer room. They rarely bothered even when this place was secured against outsiders. Now that parts of it are open to the public, they clearly don't care. So, I help myself to the serum and set the computer up as if I never left this place. And then I enter my landscape.

The building is taller than ever. I suppose that indicates progress – that I can handle heights which would have bothered me in the past. But all I can think of is how Tris jumped with me the time I took her in here. How she led me through that fear like she led me through the others. God, I miss her.

The image of her and Uriah still floats before me as I leap into the air, letting the simulation take me. It's probably my hardest landing yet.

I'm stuck in the box forever. It seems to have taken the shape of a coffin, and I feel like I'm buried alive in it, unable to see and utterly bereft of hope. I remember my hand on Tris' chest, her heartbeat fluttering under my palm as she told me to breathe with her, but the memory makes me feel even more alone and makes it even harder to find air.

Eventually, something clicks inside me, and I can't stand being in here anymore, and I find myself kicking the wall away and climbing out, uncertain how I actually managed it.

I wish I was back in it when I see the next fear.

I'm sitting in the back row of a small church, and Uriah is standing at the front, dressed in what is unmistakably a groom's tuxedo. Zeke and Amar and George are with him, happy grins on all their faces as they wait for the bride. I don't even have to look to know who it is, but my eyes are drawn to her anyway.

Tris looks more beautiful than I have ever seen her as she walks down the aisle. Her face is lit with joy, and her dress flows behind her as the wedding march plays. She doesn't even glance at me as she passes, her eyes focused only on Uriah, and the sick feeling inside me is so intense I feel like it will actually kill me at any moment.

I seem to be frozen in place, unable to move or protest or even look away as they exchange their vows and then lean forward into a kiss that lasts an eternity. Gone. She's gone. I've lost her forever. And it was all my fault.

I'm not entirely sure what triggers the landscape to move on. It certainly doesn't feel like my heartbeat has slowed, but I suppose it must have because the scene eventually changes.

Tris is in my arms. She's pressing herself to me, kissing me, and it feels so _right_ that I forget where I am and forget that if she's here it must be as part of a fear. Instead, I pull her to me desperately, kissing her with everything I am. I've missed this so much. I've missed _her_ more than I ever thought possible.

She winds her fingers through my hair, holding me to her, and my hands are under her shirt, feeling her smooth skin as the kisses deepen.

"I've missed you so much, Tris," I murmur against her mouth, breathing in her incredible scent. "I love you."

But I can feel her going stiff in my arms, and I pull away enough to look at her. She's terrified. Her eyes are wide, staring at something behind me, and she's backing away, holding her hands up defensively.

"No, please don't," she whispers, and I ache at the fear in her voice. "Please don't."

My body seems to be locked in place, unable to turn and see what she's looking at. Unable to move to defend her.

"Please, Peter," she begs. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

And then I see him moving in on her, his expression vicious. He looks so much like my father always did, anger and hatred etched into every line of his face.

"You didn't mean to _cheat_ on me?" he asks almost softly. But it's a dangerous kind of soft. "With _him_, of all people? You think I'll just put up with this?"

Peter strikes her hard across the face, a back-handed blow that whips her head to the side and causes a cracking sound to shatter the room. I can tell he's broken her jaw.

She crumples to the floor, trying to defend herself as he hits her again and again, powerful punches and kicks that leave her bleeding and sobbing and curled into a ball as she attempts to protect herself. I'm fighting to move with every ounce of my being, but my muscles are still locked in place. I can't even shout, can't even cry. All I can do is watch as he beats her over and over. _No. God, no. Stop this!_

When he finally leaves, my muscles unlock, and I race to her, cradling her bloody form in my arms as her breath rattles in and out of her.

"Tris! Tris, please look at me. Please be okay. Please!"

She opens her eyes, and I'm frozen again at the hatred in them. "You did this," she hisses with her dying breath. "I only married him because you left me. This is all your fault."

And as the life leaves her eyes, I know she's right. I've failed her in every possible way. _I did this._

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**_A/N: If you need to be cheered up now, please feel free to reread the last few chapters of "Determinant." In the meantime, reviews? If you're not too sad?  
_**


	3. Chapter 3: Tobias - Conversations

_**A/N: Sorry to take a little while to post this chapter! I'm back from vacation now but am trying to catch up on everything, and I'm really far behind in my writing at the moment. In the meantime, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate your encouragement. Thank you also to my great beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**To clear up any confusion over Tobias' fear landscape, the landscape itself locked his muscles in place in order to force him to watch helplessly. He didn't freeze in fear in response to what he was watching. I just wanted to clarify that before continuing.**_

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**Chapter 3: Tobias – Conversations**

"Help me understand your reasoning, Tobias." Kevin's voice is as frustrated as I've ever heard it. "You learn that Tris kissed someone else, and you decide to go into your _fear landscape_? Exactly what were you expecting to see in there? Puppy dogs and rainbows?"

"It wasn't one of my better ideas," I mumble, holding my head in my hands as the rest of my body sags into the large leather chair in Kevin's living room. All the fury seems to have drained out of me, and I barely have the strength to sit at this point.

Kevin groans in apparent agreement. "Yeeaaah, it takes a special kind of masochist for that one." The comment should probably annoy me, but I'm too tired to care. Besides, he's undoubtedly right.

He sits back on his couch, his long limbs draped across it with that odd mix of tension and relaxation he conveys so often, and sighs. "Fine," he finally says. "What's done is done." It's a phrase we use in group sessions a lot. We can't change the past, so we just have to move forward as best we can from whatever happened. "Let's see what we can learn from it."

I nod. Out of all the people I could have asked to be my sponsor, Kevin was the one I knew I needed. Tall and tough, his dark skin covered in tattoos, he shows his Dauntless roots as much as the Erudite habits he adopted after choosing that faction a decade ago. Most people find him intimidating, but to me he seems familiar – and easier to be around than the rest of the group, with their Erudite mannerisms that remind me too much of Jeanine and all the reasons we fought a war.

Like me – like all of us in the group – Kevin was abused throughout his childhood. He joined the program after his girlfriend left him, becoming factionless to escape from him, and he realized he had become his father. Eight years later, he stays to help the rest of us, and maybe because the group just means that much to him.

My voice is low as I describe my fears, and what was different about them today. I don't leave anything out, and he doesn't interrupt.

"Marcus wasn't in the landscape at all?" he asks thoughtfully after I finish.

"No. Not in any form." I rub my temples. "I assume because he's dead."

Kevin shakes his head, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. "That doesn't usually matter. The fear stays anyway."

We're both silent for a moment as he thinks further, absent-mindedly scratching the stubble along the side of his square jaw. "And you didn't hit anyone in it?" he asks.

"No. I couldn't even move during most of it. The landscape locked me in place so I'd have to just watch." An involuntary shudder passes through me at the memory of being held rigidly like that, completely unable to help Tris. I've seen the landscape freeze others that way before, but this is the first time it's happened to me.

Kevin nods, pursing his lips as he sits back again. "All things considered," he says slowly, contemplatively, "I'd have to call that progress."

I stare at him blankly, unable to form a response. It certainly didn't _feel_ like progress.

He smiles a little, obviously understanding what I'm thinking.

"It's still a fear landscape, and you went in at the worst possible time, so I'm sure it sucked royally. But you didn't hurt anyone, and you didn't turn into your father, and you didn't have to cower as someone beat you. Overall, that shows significant progress in overcoming your past."

I shake my head in protest, trying to clear the image of Peter beating Tris from my mind. "There was still abuse…" I finally say.

"Of course there was," Kevin answers somewhat dismissively. "It's been the most consistent theme in your life. It's not going to vanish just because you're in a support group, but I don't think abuse was truly your fear this time. It seems more like a standard afraid-of-losing-the-person-you-love fear. We all have that."

He reaches out, placing a hand on my shoulder. Maybe he's right about progress, because I don't wince away from the friendly gesture.

"Tobias, trust me. Half the guys in group would have turned into their abuser if they entered a simulation at a time like that, and they would have killed both their ex and the new guy. You did okay."

I nod a little, but for some reason, his words bother me. It takes a moment to realize it's because he referred to Tris as my ex.

"I don't know how to handle this," I admit, my voice rough. "I still love her, and it hurts like hell to think she doesn't love me back."

Kevin's eyes meet mine as a long sigh escapes from him. "Believe me, I know," he says almost gently. It's a strange sound, coming from him. He's not exactly the type to coddle people.

"When I found out Elena had gotten married…. Well, let's just say that was the hardest time in my life." He pauses, and I can see the residual pain in his expression. "But you have to keep going. Tris might or might not get together with someone else. And you might or might not have to see them that way. For that matter, the two of you might or might not ever get back together. Sometimes, it works out, and sometimes it doesn't. You can't let any of that drive your life."

His eyes lock on mine, making sure he has my attention before he adds, "You just have to keep working to be the person you want to be."

We're silent again as I think about that. "Does it ever get easier?" I finally ask, my voice quiet. The Dauntless in me feels like it's a pathetic question, but I ask it anyway. I need to know there's some kind of hope ahead.

"Absolutely," he answers emphatically. "It's slow, but…yeah, life improves a lot with time." He gives a half smile. "I'm never going to spew lollipops from my butt or anything, but I'm definitely much happier than I was. And as hard as it was to get over Elena, I have to say that I love Miriam even more. So, sometimes change is for the better, even if it doesn't seem that way when you're struggling through it."

But I can't help shaking my head at that. It's impossible to imagine spending my life with anyone except Tris.

Kevin seems to understand, because he claps my shoulder again lightly. "Give it time," he says. His expression is difficult to read as he adds, "And if it comforts you at all…you'll notice that Uriah didn't stay in Philadelphia. And Tris didn't come back here with him. So, consider this a trial run, but I wouldn't say she's moved on just yet."

I close my eyes, digesting that, and slowly, something deep inside me unclenches. For the first time in hours, I can breathe.

* * *

The others are still grouped in the gathering room when I finally return to my faction. Christina looks at me, and I decide to preempt any reaction.

"I talked to Kevin." She closes the mouth she had just opened and nods instead. We have a deal that I'll talk to one of them at times like this, since bottling everything up wasn't exactly helping me, but it can be her or Zeke or Kevin.

"Okay," she says simply. "So, what's the verdict on Uriah?"

My muscles tense at the sound of his name – and even more when I see him still sitting on the couch – but this time I'm able to control my reaction. My gaze takes him in, noticing his anxious expression and the way he fidgets as he sits there. It's obvious he feels guilty, and from my perspective, he should. He betrayed my friendship.

But at the same time…I can't say he was entirely wrong. He's liked Tris from the beginning, the same way I have. Zeke talked him into going after Marlene instead, for my sake, but who knows what would have happened if he hadn't done that. Tris could easily have chosen him.

And suddenly I realize that's what it all boils down to. I don't care that Uriah likes Tris. Well, I do, but I can't blame him for it. She's pretty damned likeable. What matters is how _she_ feels.

"Did she kiss you back?" I ask him.

Uriah's eyes close briefly as he shakes his head a little. "No…." But he doesn't sound very sure of that. "She kind of…froze. I think she was too shocked to react." His face turns a bit sad as he adds, "But it was pretty clear she wasn't interested."

It's as if all the pressure that has been pushing into me releases itself at once, leaving my legs almost rubbery with relief. I can't say I feel joy in this moment – it's not a day for that – but the pain is certainly less.

I nod a couple of times. "You can still move in," I tell him gruffly.

Uriah doesn't answer, and I'm not sure he believes me, but I'm too drained to discuss it more. Instead, I start walking away, heading for my room.

I'm halfway to the door when Zeke says, "But you know she will move on at some point, right? Whether with Uri or someone else. You're going to have to deal with that sooner or later without killing anyone."

My entire body stops. However much I hate it, Zeke is right. It's only a matter of time. And the bottom line is that Tris deserves to be happy. If she finds that with someone else, it's my job to live with it, even if I have no idea how.

"I know, Zeke," I say resignedly, not turning around. "Just let me take it one day at a time."

* * *

_**A/N: As I mentioned above, I'm really behind in my writing at the moment, so it might be a week before the next update. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your reviews do more than anything else to support me and encourage me to write, and I appreciate them very, very much!**_


	4. Chapter 4: Tobias - New Direction

_**A/N: I'm really sorry this chapter took so long. Between being gone for vacation, have family visit here, getting my daughter back to college, having my son start school, being extremely busy at work, and getting sick, it's been a long haul. And my poor beta reader is just as busy, so we're not having much luck coordinating our schedules right now.**_

_**Anyway, thank you so much for your patience, and for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! I truly appreciate them.**_

**Chapter 4: Tobias – New Direction**

Images from my fear landscape haunt me all night, both when I'm awake and in my dreams, until I finally give up on sleep and go to the exercise room.

My knuckles are still swollen and sore from pummeling the bag yesterday, so I opt to practice my kicks, slamming my feet hard into the dummy again and again as I let my mind clear.

I don't like how directionless I feel. For sixteen years, my goal was simple – to get through each day with as few injuries as possible, hoping to somehow be free, someday. When I transferred to Dauntless, I finally had that, only to find it didn't sit well. I felt out of place and found myself planning to leave, even though there was nowhere specific I wanted to go and nothing specific I wanted to do.

Things were different when I was with Tris. I still didn't know where I belonged, but I could face life with her by my side, and I could begin to figure out everything else. She gave me a focus, I guess – I could be selfless and brave and smart for her, and even sometimes honest and kind, or at least loving. It's always been easy to love her, even when it's been most difficult to actually be with her.

I suppose that's part of why it's so hard to let her go. She brought out the best in me, and I don't want to lose those parts of myself any more than I want to lose her.

My heel smacks into the dummy with a satisfying _thunk_, and I pause to watch it sway back and forth as Kevin's words drift through my mind again. Whatever happens with Tris, I can't let it drive my life. I have to find a way to keep working toward being the person I want to be.

It's hard to face that reality, but I know that Kevin is right. And it's not like I haven't made any progress without Tris. I've grown a lot since I returned to Chicago, and not just because of the support group. It made a difference to build this faction from the beginning, writing its manifesto along with Cara and George and Amar and then repairing apartments for all of us and for our other members as they joined. The whole process helped me figure out how I want to live and what traits I truly value.

I've helped with plenty of other new factions, too, putting in long hours on so many days, even though I don't technically have to work. The "hero's pension" the city gives those of us who went on the mission is enough to cover our living expenses. But the work helps other people, and it feels good to do that. It's another form of progress.

Shifting my stance, I start side kicks, striking with the blade of my right foot.

It would feel good to do something for Tris, I realize abruptly. Even if I never end up being around her again, and even if she never learns about or appreciates my efforts, I would feel better if I helped her somehow.

The question is how…. It can't just be something that makes her happy for a moment. It needs to be something that lasts – something that improves her life into the future. Something permanent.

I pause, steadying the dummy with my hands before resuming my kicks.

Family is important to her. When she was at Dauntless, she struggled with having left her parents behind, and I know how deeply it hurt her when they died. A twinge goes through me as I remember telling her that _I'd_ be her family. I broke that promise. But I'm not sure there's anything I can do about it now. I'm out of the picture, at least for the moment, and she's already become close to the only family she has left: her grandmother, Anna, and her brother, Caleb.

She'll gain more family someday, if she ever gets married.

I kick again, trying to shove the images from my fear landscape away, but they stay anyway. Tris looked so beautiful in her wedding gown. If I push my own desires aside, I know I want that for her. She deserves to have a family of her own someday. To marry someone who will always be good to her, who will love her deeply and truly, and whom she will love. To have children she will care for the way her own parents cared for her.

My next kick connects too hard with the dummy, causing it to spin wildly in circles. I watch it for a moment, and slowly a detail that I didn't notice yesterday slips into my consciousness. The ring that Uriah placed on Tris' finger was familiar. I close my eyes, seeing it on a pawn shop counter in Pittsburgh so long ago. Anna's ring.

And suddenly I know what I need to do for Tris.

* * *

"I don't know, Tobias," Kevin says hesitantly. "That sounds more like an attempt to hang on to Tris than to let her go."

I shake my head firmly. "No. It's not for me. I'm not even planning to give it directly to Tris – I'll return it to Anna instead, and she can give it to Tris later, whenever it's appropriate." I rub a hand along the back of my neck, trying to come up with the right words to explain my thoughts.

"It just never felt right to sell that ring. We didn't have a choice, so we did it, but we both knew it was wrong." I look up, meeting Kevin's gaze levelly as I continue.

"Her parents are dead, and the Abnegation don't keep personal belongings, so there's nothing left of them at all. She doesn't even have photos of them. But from everything I know, her grandparents loved each other, and they loved her mom. I feel like that ring connects them, and it's the only heirloom the family has. Tris should have it…for…whoever she ends up marrying."

As my voice falters, Kevin presses his lips into a line, and I know he still doesn't think it's a good idea for me to do this. Maybe it doesn't matter – it's not like I need his permission to go. Still, I want him to understand, so I add my last reason.

"It's my way of making amends."

He lets out a long sigh as he sits back, sinking into the couch and watching me while he thinks. "How do you know Tris hasn't already retrieved the ring?" he asks carefully.

But I just shake my head. "I don't see how she could have. At first, she was injured, and since then she's been running a country. It's not like she could take the time to go after it in person, and it would be pointless to send someone else. The only name on the store was "PAWN," and there was no visible address. It took us forever to find it, and our guide is now dead. So, it would be virtually impossible to send someone there, and even if they found it, they wouldn't be able to pick out the right ring."

I face him squarely as I add, "I really feel this is up to me."

Kevin nods a little, still looking thoughtful. "Okay, then," he says simply. "I'll take some time off work."

Those aren't the words I expected. "Are you offering to come with me?" I ask, surprised and not entirely sure what to make of that idea. There aren't many people whose help I'd want for this, but Kevin is certainly one of them.

"Yeah," he answers slowly, "I think that's only fair. My sponsor went out of his way to assist me with something big once upon a time, so I should pay the favor forward." He nods again, as if he's convincing himself, and then adds, "Besides, I've been curious to see the outside world."

I can't help but smile a little at that. "Bring a nose plug" is my only response.

* * *

"I'm going to Pittsburgh for a week or so," I state flatly at the dinner table. I don't really want to explain what I'm doing, but I know it wouldn't be fair to my faction-mates to simply vanish for that long without at least mentioning it. Besides, George, Cara, and I will need to make arrangements to cover Amar's therapy during my absence.

Christina coughs violently, apparently startled enough to choke on the mouthful of food she was in the middle of swallowing.

"_Pittsburgh?_ What could possibly make you want to go back there?" she sputters, wrinkling her nose at the memory of how bad the entire city smelled.

I can feel a slight flush start to crawl up my cheeks at where I know this conversation will go, but I answer anyway.

"We left something there."

Christina narrows her eyes suspiciously. "What something?"

For a second, I just stare at her, surprised she has to ask. But as I look around the group, I see nothing but confusion on their faces, and it finally dawns on me that none of them ever realized Anna gave us her ring. We left the bomb shelter in such a rush, and there wasn't a lot of conversational time after that. Tris and I are probably the only ones who knew.

With that realization comes a second one. I don't want to tell them exactly what I'm doing. They don't need to know, and it feels too private to share.

"We sold something at the pawn shop," I answer neutrally, "that I'd like to get back. It was an old family heirloom."

There's a pause while they digest that. My father did give me my mother's ring while we were in the bomb shelter, and the others might well have observed that act. It's believable that I'm trying to retrieve it.

"You must really want it back," Cara comments, looking thoughtful but not overly suspicious, "to be traveling that far for it. Are you sure they still have it?"

"No," I tell her truthfully, not wanting to think about that possibility. "But the longer I wait, the less likely it is they'll have it, and I need to at least try."

Apparently, that answer appeases them, because the conversation migrates to how they'll cover my share of the faction chores while I'm gone. Currently, I'm mostly working on preparing an apartment for Uriah, and frankly I'm not in the mood for that after yesterday anyway, so it doesn't bother me when Amar and George volunteer to finish that task.

"I can give you a hand, too," Zeke offers, but George waves him off good-naturedly.

"No, we've got it," he says, smiling fondly at Amar. "I think we both enjoy the hands-on work." And that's probably true. Increasingly, they've been helping me with projects in the building, and it seems to be therapeutic for Amar. It's still difficult for him to go out into the city, with all the unpredictable interactions with strangers that leads to, but he gets thoroughly bored being cooped up here all the time with nothing to do.

"What about the Monday and Friday sessions?" Cara asks, nodding with her chin toward Amar. Lately, George has been handling each Wednesday's therapy, but I still do the other two sessions a week. And missing those does make me a little nervous. Amar has been making slow progress, and I don't want to mess that up in my attempt to do something for Tris.

"I'll have them with George," Amar answers Cara, somewhat unexpectedly. "I've been wanting to work more on my Erudite skills anyway."

Cara and I exchange a quick look, and I can tell she's as hesitant about that idea as I am. The Amity pathways in Amar's brain are still enlarged from my broadcast, so we've been focusing the therapy sessions on building up his existing Dauntless pathways, with the goal of getting him to use those more so the Amity ones will gradually shrink. I'm not sure how successful it will be to work on his weaker pathways – Erudite and Candor and Abnegation. They might not distract him enough from the Amity ones.

Cara voices her doubt before I can respond. "I don't think you should experiment while Four is away," she says warily. "It's better to keep the focus on Dauntless for now."

Amar shrugs, looking slightly rebellious, and a sudden suspicion goes through me. I glance at George for confirmation, and the slight blush on his face tells me I'm right.

"You've already been working on the Erudite pathways, haven't you?" George's blush deepens, and Amar's eyes dart away guiltily, while Cara simply looks livid.

"What?!" she all but shouts. "We've been designing and tracking the _entire_ therapy approach in _minute_ detail for _months_, and you two just go and do something different on your own? Do you know how risky that is?"

For a moment, we're all silent, frozen by Cara's outburst. She almost never loses her temper, and _everyone_ is careful not to yell at Amar, so everything about this feels strange. But the interesting thing is that it's not affecting my former instructor the way I would have expected. He's not backing down, or looking distressed, or losing his fragile self-control. If anything, Cara's tirade seems to have brought out the Dauntless in him. And suddenly it occurs to me that we've been tip-toeing around him too much.

"Cara," I say firmly, drawing her attention away from George, whom she's currently glaring at. "When you think about it, what they did is very Dauntless. They took a chance, even though it was risky and involved breaking rules." My eyes flit to Amar, and the corner of my mouth tugs upward. "And now they're in trouble for it. You can't get more Dauntless than that."

Amar grins at me, and I turn back to Cara as I add, "I don't have a problem with this."

She opens her mouth to protest but then closes it again as she realizes I have a point. "How long have you been doing this?" she finally asks George.

"Five weeks," he admits. Cara's jaw twitches as she bites back a response, but I chuckle.

"Well, then, it's obviously not causing problems," I say in what I hope is a calming tone. "So, it sounds like George can project Dauntless traits on Monday and Friday while I'm gone, and Erudite traits on Wednesday, and everything should be good?"

I quirk a questioning eyebrow at the others. Cara still looks thoroughly annoyed, but George and Amar nod in agreement.

"I won't leave until Tuesday," I add, trying to pacify Cara a bit. "So we can do a trial run on Monday to make sure it'll work."

"Fine," she mutters, giving George a last dirty look before refocusing on her dinner. But personally, I feel a lot better for having learned about this whole situation. It reassures me that George is able to adjust the therapy around his husband's needs – and that Amar is stronger than I've given him credit for.

It frees me up to make this trip work.

**_A/N: Please take a moment to let me know how this chapter worked. I read and truly appreciate every review, and they motivate me more than anything else to carve out time to write. Thanks!_**


	5. Chapter 5: Tobias - Pittsburgh

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! And thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**To clear up any confusion, this story is not set entirely during the time that Tris and Tobias are apart. It will continue during this time frame for a while longer and then will shift to later and will go through their engagement and wedding. So, there's definitely Fourtris coming. In the meantime, the focus is on the characters' personal growth, on the growth of the new country, and on what's happening around the rings (the second one will be introduced later). :-)**_

**Chapter 5: Tobias – Pittsburgh**

We spend the rest of the week preparing for the trip. One of George's friends from the bomb shelter, Alexis, is able to convert my Chicago credits to money that will work in Pittsburgh, and I swap enough to cover anything we can reasonably expect to encounter. But being the deeply cynical person I am, I also buy some jewelry to take along, just in case. It'll give me something to sell or trade if needed.

It's a relief when Alexis offers to lend us a car, too. There are plenty of abandoned ones around the city, but it's a gamble whether any given one would be up to such a long trip, so it's better to have one we know is working well. We also bring extra gas, though it should be safe to refuel along the way this time, without NUSA soldiers waiting to ambush us.

George does well with the therapy session on Monday, or more accurately, Amar responds to it well, relieving the few nagging doubts I had, and I find myself feeling unusually settled that night. For the first time since Uriah's admission, I sleep well, dreaming for some reason about Tris and Anna walking around Pittsburgh handing out rings to the poor.

Kevin and I head out early Tuesday morning, both in surprisingly good moods. I have no illusions that this will be an easy task, but it's been a long time since I've done something that feels so right.

The drive seems to take forever. It's difficult to compare it to the last one, with Tris by my side as we headed into unknown danger, but there's no question that the roads are still in awful condition, and it takes ages to trudge along them. I end up teaching Kevin how to drive as we go, to fill the time and to give me a break from being behind the wheel. He picks it up quickly, which is hardly surprising for a Dauntless-Erudite mix, and he seems to enjoy it.

We talk more than I would have expected as we go, about a wide variety of subjects. It helps, I suppose, that Kevin has spent a decade in Erudite, learning thousands of useless facts – and some interesting ones. I'll never share Caleb's fascination with the water filtration equipment in Amity, but it's somewhat intriguing to hear about how the train lines in Chicago were expanded and reduced over the years and how the trains themselves operate.

We refill the gas tank in Toledo, and I notice that there are still blood stains from where Robert and the NUSA soldiers we killed once lay. Someone obviously retrieved the bodies, since there aren't any bones or decaying forms left behind, and I wonder vaguely who did that – and if it was on Tris' orders. It wouldn't surprise me if she remembered her dead friend, while I left him lying there without a second thought.

After a little debate, we decide to spend the night in a long-abandoned building a few blocks from the gas station. We spread our sleeping bags on the hard floor and then end up sleeping on top of them, since it's too hot for their stifling warmth. It's certainly not comfortable, but I've dealt with far worse, so I don't say anything. Kevin doesn't complain, either. I'm not sure if it's the Dauntless left in him, or if he's thinking about how his former girlfriend was forced to live after he drove her into factionlessness.

We leave before five o'clock the next morning and drive almost straight through, stopping only briefly to eat some of the food we brought with us. Shortly after noon, we reach the hilly terrain outside Pittsburgh. I'm driving at that point, and I think about turning the wheel over to Kevin, but it seems to be mildly easier to face my fears when I'm in control of the car, so I end up staying where I am and focusing on breathing as we cross the peaks.

The entrance to the city is the same hell I remember from last time, with its never-ending tunnel that empties onto a bridge high over the water. Kevin keeps giving me worried looks and reminding me to breathe, and I'm pretty sure I leave permanent imprints from my fingers on the steering wheel, but I make it to the other end of the bridge in one piece. That presumably counts as some kind of victory.

It's harder to remember the route from here, since it was dark the last time I was in this city, and I was too caught up in my fears and in facing my father to notice every turn. So, I settle for taking the same highway exit that Amar took, and then I pull over to the side of the road.

"Is this it?" Kevin asks, looking around uncertainly, as if he's expecting the pawn shop to be in sight.

"It's as close as I know how to get us," I tell him plainly. "From here, we'll have to ask for directions and do a lot of searching."

He nods, his mouth flattening in mild distaste as he looks around. I can't blame him. The place still looks terrible compared with faction life in Chicago, with slime on many buildings and trash on the street. To me, though, the living conditions don't seem as extreme as they did last time I was here. At least in this area, there are no shelters packed between buildings, and when I open the car door, the stench of human misery is not nearly the assault it was. Tris has clearly made progress in improving people's lives.

Kevin climbs out of the car and immediately wrinkles his nose in disgust. "You weren't kidding about the smell…" he mutters, and I smirk a little in response.

"I hate to tell you, but this is a _lot_ better than it was." In fact, given we're in the heat of summer now, and it was winter last time, the smell has improved remarkably.

He looks at me in disbelief before shaking his head slowly. "Ouch," he mutters. But he seems to accept it, walking beside me casually as I approach a small group of people who are standing by the side of the road, talking.

"Excuse me," I say when I'm near enough to be heard. Two of the people closest to me turn around, their expressions filled with the politeness I associate with Abnegation. It's slightly unnerving to see that here. "I'm trying to find a pawn shop that's somewhere in this area. Do you know how I could get there?"

A middle-aged woman in the group looks us up and down curiously. We're both wearing the oldest, most ragged clothes we could find for this trip, but despite that, we look better off than the people in front of us. Their outfits are dirty and ripped, and it's obvious that they haven't bathed in weeks. Suddenly, I'm keenly aware of just how much easier our lives are than those of the people I'm asking for help.

"I've seen a number of pawn shops around," the woman says thoughtfully, "but I don't really know how to get to any of them." She gives me a half-smile before adding, "I've never had the money to buy anything there." My sense of guilt increases as I think about the money and jewelry I brought with me, but I don't say anything. I can't fix this city's problems one person at a time, and I have a specific objective behind this trip.

The woman turns queryingly to the others in her group, and they begin the kind of rambling conversation I've seen many times in my life when no one has an answer but everyone is determined to help. I decide to give them a few minutes to see what they can think up, and it seems to pay off when one of them eventually goes to ask a friend.

He comes back with a young woman – more of a teenager, really – who approaches us somewhat warily. "You're looking for a pawn shop?" she asks, and I nod, trying not to look too intimidating. It would help if Kevin and I weren't both over six feet tall, while this girl is closer to Tris' height.

"We're trying to find one I saw a while ago. It was labeled 'PAWN', and it carried jewelry." I know it's a pitiful description to go on, but it's all I have.

"Oh." She twists a plait of her dirty brown hair together, chewing on it as she considers that. "Well, I didn't notice if it carried jewelry or not, but I applied for a job at one that's a few miles away. Do you want to try it?"

I hesitate, but Kevin says, "Sure." At my look, he adds, "If it's the wrong one, someone who works there can probably direct us to others. People tend to know their competitors well." That's a fair point.

"Yeah, we'll take a look," I agree.

The girl clearly tries her best to give us directions, but between us not knowing the area and her inability to remember some details of the route, it quickly becomes obvious that this will never work.

"Why don't we take you there?" her friend finally suggests, again in that helpful tone that reminds me so much of Abnegation. Just how must of that faction did my broadcast impart on these people?

But it doesn't seem to have affected the girl as much, because her expression makes it obvious that she isn't thrilled with the suggestion. Presumably, that's because Kevin and I are frightening people, but in a way I'm glad of that right now. We're already better dressed than average for this city, so we're ripe for someone to try to rob. That makes it a good time to look Dauntless.

But not necessarily to our potential guides….

I give the type of polite smile I grew up seeing, and I say gently, "If you have time available, that would be very helpful." I pause briefly before adding, "And we would be happy to pay for your service." It's only fair to offer, and we might as well address the wealth discrepancy up front.

A grin spreads across the girl's face as she finally nods in agreement. "Follow me," she says happily, leading the way at a good clip. Her friend falls into step behind her, walking by us and giving us a warm smile.

"My name is Emmanuel," he says. Gesturing toward our guide, he adds, "and that's Emily."

I incline my head in greeting. "That's Kevin, and I'm Tobias."

Something like recognition flickers through his eyes when he hears my name, and I tense automatically. He presumably knows me from the broadcast, but for a variety of reasons, I don't want to discuss that right now.

"You look familiar, Tobias," he says, his tone quizzical, and I realize he can't quite place me. "Have we met before?"

"I doubt it," I answer shortly, trying to discourage him from pursuing the subject. "I don't live in this area."

It's obvious from his expression that he knows I'm hiding something. But I guess he respects my privacy, because he just nods and turns his attention back to the sidewalk, walking in silence as we look around.

It's amazing to me how much the city has changed. The hand-built shelters that filled every nook and cranny last time seem to be entirely gone now, and in multiple areas we pass, I see people actively cleaning the streets and buildings and doing manual construction work. It has the same feeling I've seen back home in the past few months, every time a new faction has created a space for itself. These people are building communities to live in and are excited to be getting them ready.

The attitude of the rest of the population is noticeably different, too. The last time I was here, there was a sense of defeated obedience to everyone, but now people call to each other in greeting and gather in groups, talking animatedly. Optimism almost seems to float in the air, reminding me of Amity, but with more of the energy from Dauntless and the volume of Candor.

But a less visible difference is what catches my attention the most. During the mission, I was a mass of tension from the number of times I heard someone striking another person – and heard the cries of pain coming from a woman or child in response. I don't hear any of that this time. Instead, I frequently see children running in groups, laughing, while indulgent smiles follow them from the people they pass.

I don't know what to make of all this. There's no question that poverty is still heavy through here, at least judging by the old, worn clothing that everyone seems to be wearing. But the people don't look as starved or neglected as I remember, and every time I see someone eating, it's in a group of some kind where they're sharing their food. It reminds me of how the factionless in Chicago lived.

In fact, the more I look around, the more everything I see today reminds me of Chicago. _Forcefully._ And that makes it obvious where the changes stem from. Our mission. My broadcast. Tris' presidency. _We_ did this.

It's a humbling reality.

"Are you all right?" Kevin asks softly, and I realize I'm breathing rapidly. It's hard not to, as the full impact of that day hits me. It was so hard to share what I did in that broadcast – all the most intimate parts of myself – and I've never really wanted to think about it since then. But now I'm surrounded by the consequences of my decisions…and for the first time, I think maybe I made the right choices.

"Yeah," I say a bit stiffly, glancing at Kevin. "It's just really different from last time."

Before he can answer, Emily comes to a halt, gesturing grandly at what is clearly a pawn shop. She looks like she's proud of herself for finding it, but my heart sinks a little at the sight. It's not the right one. Still, as Kevin said, it's a starting point, so I don't complain as we head inside. Hopefully, the employees can help us get where we need to be.

* * *

"There are over a hundred pawn shops in Pittsburgh," the manager tells us, a touch of impatience in her voice. "So, if you want to find a particular one, you'll need to give me a lot more to go on."

"Well, it's on this side of the river," I state. I'm not surprised when the woman just raises her eyebrow. Obviously, that doesn't narrow the list much. Turning to our guides, I add, "And it's probably within a two-hour walk of where we started."

"Centre and Vine," Emmanuel offers helpfully, but the manager shakes her head.

"It'll take you weeks to visit every pawn shop in that radius," she tells us. "What else do you have?"

They all turn to me, and I wrack my brain, trying to come up with something unique about the nondescript shop we visited so long ago. I can picture the inside fairly well, but it was filled with transitory items – things for sale, nothing structural or identifying that would help us now. Except maybe one thing….

"It was in the broadcast," I say tightly.

For a moment, the room is dead silent, and then Emmanuel's eyes widen with shock. "I knew you looked familiar," he gasps. "You're the one who did the broadcast."

Emily raises her hands to her mouth, staring at me in awe. "Oh, my god," she whispers before her eyes flit to her friend. "You're right…."

"It can't be," the manager says, looking utterly stunned, but as the reality in front of her seems to sink in, she looks far less certain. "Are you really?" she finally asks, her voice quiet and filled with hope.

I don't know how to respond, and for a long moment, we all just stand there, staring at each other. It's Kevin who ultimately answers for me.

"Yes, Tobias transmitted the broadcast that ended NUSA," he says in his most factual voice.

"You freed us," Emmanuel says, stepping closer and reaching a hand toward me as if he wants to make sure I'm real. But I instinctively back away a step. I've never liked being touched, except by a very few people. Well, really just Tris.

"I'd be dead by now," Emily adds, also stepping closer, "if it weren't for you."

"My son probably would be, too," the manager says quietly. "A lot of people would be." As with the other two, she moves to touch my arm, and I step back again, discomfort raging through every part of me. There is nothing easy about this conversation.

"I don't think he knows…" Emmanuel says slowly, his eyes moving from me to his friend and then back again. "You haven't been here to see the consequences of your message, have you?"

I feel like a trapped animal, and I want nothing more than to leave this store right now. But part of me knows I can't avoid this discussion. These people clearly have very strong feelings about what I transmitted, and good or bad, they need to express those emotions.

"No," I admit awkwardly, "this is the first time I've been back here since that day."

Emmanuel nods thoughtfully, his eyes dark and serious. He seems to be struggling with where to begin.

"Our lives are so different now," he tells me softly. "I don't even know how to explain…." He runs a hand through his black hair. "I guess I should begin with the changes that President Prior made. She opened the government buildings up to house families with young children, and she insisted that all of the abandoned buildings throughout the country had to be opened so that anyone in need could move in. For the first time I can remember, I had real shelter through the winter. We all did."

Emily pipes up next. "And she said that hospitals couldn't charge for emergency medical care. I broke my leg a few months ago, and they cleaned it up and put it in a cast." She looks down at her right leg, tapping it on the floor to show that it works. "If that had happened before, I'm sure it would have gotten infected and killed me." Her voice is thick, and a tear makes its way down her cheek as she adds, "Like with my sister."

Something jumps inside me, and I swallow hard, thinking suddenly of my sister, Margaret, living factionless for her first few years of life.

"The president expanded the schools, too," the manager says, a hint of wonder in her voice. "I didn't think I'd be able to afford to send my daughter to sixth grade, but now she'll be able to go for free." She shakes her head in amazement. "Can you imagine that? _Free middle_ s_chool._"

"But it's not just that," Emmanuel says, clearly wanting very much to make me understand. "It's everything else – everyone's attitude, and the opportunities we have now. Businesses have been hiring more people instead of keeping all their profits to themselves, and those who have more have been sharing food and clothes with those in need."

"For me," the manager says softly, her voice breaking a little, "the biggest difference is what you said about abuse. My husband used to hit me and our children sometimes, but he doesn't anymore. Not at all."

Kevin turns to stare at me, clearly startled by that statement, and I realize I should have talked with him more before bringing him here. Like everyone else in Chicago, he learned only basic information about the broadcast – just that it stopped the war and overthrew NUSA. He doesn't know exactly what message I conveyed, because I never had any desire to share that and didn't feel it was necessary. Maybe it was.

I run a hand up the back of my neck, feeling the sweat prickling there. This is all too much to absorb.

"Look," I say, finally finding my voice again, "I…appreciate what you're saying, but I didn't come here to…." My voice trails off as I realize that I can't tell them I don't want their thanks – that would just come off as rude. But after growing up in Abnegation, I have no idea how to accept gratitude without deflecting it off myself. And this is too big to deflect.

To my relief, Kevin jumps in. "We came here to find a ring that belongs to President Prior," he says firmly. The other three are instantly focused on him. "She and Tobias had to sell it the last time they came through here, and Tobias wants to find it now and return it to her."

It's as if someone flicked a switch, turning on electricity to the three people talking with us. They visibly light up at the idea of helping Tris, or perhaps of helping _me_ to help her.

"I didn't recognize the pawn shop in the broadcast," the manager says, "but I'm sure I can find out where it is. I'll start calling the other stores I have numbers for." She moves toward the back office rapidly, obviously wanting to help _right now_.

"I'll take care of any customers who come in while you're doing that," Emily calls after her enthusiastically, and I remember that earlier she mentioned applying for a job here. If she hasn't already gotten it, she's probably earning it now.

Emmanuel looks at us, clearly eager to come up with a way to help too, before he says, "And I'll lead you there once we have a location."

* * *

I spend the next two and a half hours wandering through the pawn shop, looking at item after item, while the manager makes her phone calls and Kevin talks with the others. There's a restless energy going through me that I don't seem to be able to release by moving. But I'm not ready to talk about it yet, either, so I just keep idly examining the junk in the store.

The manager is proud and excited when she bursts out of the back office, announcing that she's located the shop we need. She jots down the address for Emmanuel, who leads us out with his head held high and a spring in his step. I follow quietly, trying to ignore the curious gaze Kevin levels at me. He undoubtedly got some interesting information from his conversation with the others, but he's always been good about holding off on probing questions until I'm ready to talk.

It takes a little less than half an hour to reach the door I recognize from months ago. It feels surreal that we're here already, some three hours after entering the city. I would _never_ have expected to find it this quickly.

My heart beats faster as we approach, remembering how nervous Tris and Uriah and I were the last time we were here. We almost lost the whole mission that day, when the store owner wanted Pari to drink NUSA's serum-laced water. It was only Tris' quick thinking that saved us.

We enter, and I go straight to the cases of jewelry, scouring them for a sign of Anna's ring. There are two large cases, with multiple shelves that are packed with items, so it takes time. And even after the first pass, I think there's a chance I might have missed it, so I look again. But I don't see it.

"Help me look," I tell Kevin and Emmanuel, my anxiety starting to show. "It's gold with a diamond." But nothing they point out is right. Surely, it hasn't been sold. There can't be that many people who could afford a ring like that in this city….

But it soon becomes obvious that the ring is nowhere to be seen.

"It's gone," I tell the others, feeling the weight of hopelessness sink into me again. I finally came up with a way to help Tris, and I couldn't make it work.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" a man's voice asks, and I look up to see a face I know – the store owner who bought the ring all those months ago.

For a second, we just stare at each other, and then he smiles broadly. "I always suspected you would return," he says. "You or the president. I remembered her saying that she didn't really want to sell that particular ring, and I felt certain you'd come back for it."

"Do you still have it?" The words practically jump out of my mouth.

I get my answer in the way his face falls. "I'm sorry," he says softly. He clearly means the sentiment, but that doesn't stop a crushing sense of loss from going through me.

"It sold the day after you were here," he adds. "I apparently underpriced it." He looks at me sadly for a moment before continuing. "But after the broadcast, when I realized what I'd sold, I wrote down everything I could remember about the man who bought it."

He moves behind the counter, reaching down for something, and then extends a piece of paper to me. "I saved that for you. I don't know if it will help or not, but I hope perhaps it will."

_**A/N: Whew, that was a long chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will switch POVs briefly, and then we'll be back to Tobias for a little longer.**_

_**Please let me know what you think of the story so far, and particularly of this chapter. I really, really appreciate your reviews - they always encourage me to write and to post as frequently as I can. Thanks! **_


	6. Chapter 6: Luella - Frustration

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie! This is a short chapter that's just designed to introduce two new characters and to let you know the current status of Anna's ring. **_

**Chapter 6: Luella – Frustration**

Kaylee starts crying when we're still five blocks from home, and I feel like joining her. It's been another frustrating day – trudging through the sticky heat of summer for hours, going from business to business looking for anyone who might be hiring.

They were all sympathetic, of course. Everyone is these days, but that doesn't mean they have any job openings, and we're getting desperate for some type of income.

"It's all right, Kaylee," I murmur as soothingly as I can, rocking her on my hip, but the truth is that things are far from all right. We're three months behind on our rent, and while the landlord has been generous about giving us extra time to pay, there's only so long he can let us slide. If Micky and I both stay out of work for much longer, we'll have no choice but to join the families that stay in the federal building every night.

That wouldn't be so bad, I suppose. It's certainly better than living in a hand-built shelter on the street the way most everyone did while NUSA was still in power. But we'd lose the little bit of privacy we have now, and I know how hard that would be on Micky. He's always needed his privacy.

The irony is that my little family was considerably better off before NUSA was ousted, though I honestly don't know why that is. It's certainly not true of anyone else I know, or of the population as a whole. But somehow Micky always brought in pretty good money in those days.

I frown a little, wondering again just what work he used to perform. He doesn't talk about it, and it's obvious he's hiding something, but I try not to press. He'll tell me when he's ready, or so I hope. Honesty is important, after all.

* * *

Micky is already home when I arrive, hauling Kaylee with me. By now, she's screaming with hunger, and I seat myself quickly so I can nurse her. Micky leans over, brushing a tender hand along the peach fuzz on our suckling daughter's head before giving me a kiss. I can't help smiling. He always makes me happy, no matter how rotten my day might be.

"Any luck today?" I ask hopefully. I get my answer in the way his face falls.

"No," he says with a sigh. "You?" I just shake my head.

He nods a little, looking away, and I can tell he's fighting his disappointment. "I'll check farther west tomorrow," he says quietly. "There's bound to be something eventually." But I'm not so sure.

"Micky…." I bite my lip. "I think we need to face reality. What if we don't find anything?"

He turns away, balling his hands in aggravation. "What choice do we have? We've already sold everything we can."

"Not everything…" but my voice trails off at the look of fury he gives me.

"We are _not_ selling your ring!"

I sigh. I know how much it meant to him that he was able to give me an engagement ring when so few people can afford one. And I treasure it – I really do. It's my most prized possession, with its beautiful gold band and sparkling diamond. But it's still only that, only an object.

"Micky, it's just a ring," I whisper. "I mean, it's important to me, of course, but only because it came from you. I'd rather have _you_, and our life together, than any piece of metal."

But clearly he isn't ready to go down that road yet. "We're not that desperate," he growls, whirling away from me and pacing across the small room. And I know there's no point in arguing further right now. When he gets stubborn, he stops listening to reason, and reason is the only way to win this particular debate.

"Okay," I say softly. "For now, we'll just keep looking for work." He turns back to me, and I meet his eyes. "But if we don't find something before next month's rent is due, we need to consider alternatives."

He doesn't answer.

* * *

_**A/N: To answer a guest reviewer, this story will continue for a while. There will be several more chapters in Pittsburgh, and then some in Philadelphia, followed by more in Chicago. I've been updating at least once a week (usually more often) and hope to continue that schedule. I'm updating it in parallel with my "Becoming Determinant" story.**_

_**That said, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I know it's short, but hopefully it worked anyway.**_

_**P.S. For anyone who didn't see this recommendation in my "Becoming Determinant" story, I recently came across an AU "Divergent" fic that's really good and that doesn't have nearly as many reviews as it deserves. If you haven't seen it yet, I strongly recommend you check out "Bitter Cold" by Mugglesarah.**_


	7. Chapter 7: Tobias - Gratitude

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and/or been writing reviews for this story! You really inspire me to keep going. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

**Chapter 7: Tobias – Gratitude**

The store owner, whose name we learn is David, insists that we stay with him while we're in Pittsburgh. He has a small apartment by Chicago standards, but I'm sure it's quite large for this city – with a kitchen and living room in addition to a bedroom and private bathroom. Compared with the tiny one-room apartment we saw the last time I was here, this place is enormous.

We sit in the living room, Kevin's long body taking up most of the small blue couch while David and I occupy the plush mis-matched chairs that form the other side of the conversation area. But I'm not really looking at either of them – I'm still staring at the paper that David kept for all these months. I guess I'm hoping that more information will magically appear on it if I look long enough.

The man who bought Anna's ring is young – probably in his early twenties – and average sized, with reddish-blond hair and pale skin. David said they didn't talk much, but judging by his accent, the man has probably always lived in Pittsburgh. The only thing David noted from the conversation was that the man wanted to surprise his girlfriend with the ring so they could get married before their baby came.

It's depressingly little to go on – certainly not enough to find him in this city full of people. So, we end up focusing our attention on the fact that he paid in cash – and speculating from there.

"What percent of the population would have been able to afford that price?" Kevin asks curiously, sounding like the Erudite he is.

"On a payment plan," David begins, "close to five percent of my customers could have afforded it. I priced it for that range. But to pay in cash?" He shakes his head. "That was _highly_ unusual…."

"And I assume that tells you something about his profession?" Kevin presses.

David's face shows distaste. "Well, yes. Either he was a member of one of the prominent families, or he did something…illicit, at best." He scratches the bald spot on the top of his head before continuing. "He didn't have a bodyguard with him, so I doubt he belonged to one of the families, or that he was a pimp or in charge of a gang. And he wasn't large enough to be an enforcer for a loan shark."

A vague sense of revulsion goes through me at the possibilities that David is listing, and at the idea of Anna's ring being with someone like that. But I push it aside and keep my focus on our host.

"Overall," he says thoughtfully, "I think he was probably a thief."

It's slightly better than the other options, but I still don't like the idea. Most of the people in this country are barely surviving as it is – they can't afford to have someone steal from them.

And with that thought comes additional doubt. "How could he have made that much money by robbing such a poor population?" I ask.

"He couldn't," Kevin answers flatly. "The numbers don't add up. Besides, if he was stealing from people, why not simply steal a ring when he wanted one?" He shakes his head, dismissing the idea. But then another thought seems to occur to him.

"Unless he stole from businesses…" he says slowly. "In that case, he'd end up with whatever they had – which probably wouldn't be jewelry – and when he sold that, he'd have cash."

I have to think about that for a moment, remembering what little I know about businesses in NUSA. My mind goes to the building where we hid in Philadelphia. They were a manufacturer of some sort, but they only had one guard on duty at night – Margot's ex-boyfriend, Simon. It's easy to see how someone could have stolen from them – and could have ended up with enough money to pay for Anna's ring as a result.

But David looks startled by the suggestion. "I can't say I ever heard of anyone doing that," he says hesitantly. His eyes turn to me. "NUSA's broadcasts encouraged us to serve businesses almost as much as the government itself, so it's difficult to imagine someone stealing from them."

That's undoubtedly true, yet something about it doesn't quite make sense. It takes me a little while to realize why... If no one ever stole from businesses, why would Simon's company have hired him in the first place? Why would _any_ security be needed, even just a single guard? Clearly, there was some risk.

"He must have been resistant to the serum," I say, suddenly feeling no doubt that it's true. Given the extreme wealth discrepancy in NUSA, where so much abundance sat right in front of people who were starving…of course someone who was resistant would be tempted to go after it.

But I don't know if that helps us find the man we're looking for or not. He obviously wasn't part of the rebel group, since he didn't leave the city with Lauren and the others who went into hiding – he couldn't have, or he wouldn't have been here to buy the ring the next day. And he must not have known that NUSA was increasing the dose of serum in the drinking water, or he wouldn't have been out casually buying a ring during that time period.

And that means he presumably drank the water, and that may have caused him to turn himself in…. If so, he's probably dead now, I realize bitterly, unless we stopped NUSA before that happened.

Turning to David, I ask, "If he committed that type of crime, and then turned himself in, where would he have been questioned?"

"I don't honestly know," David answers, looking nonplussed. "Maybe the main police station?" He chews on his lip for a few seconds before nodding as if he's sure there's no better option. "I can take you there tomorrow if you want to check."

For another moment, I hesitate. There's far more guesswork in all of this than I'd like, but at the same time, several paths seem to lead to the police station…. If the man we're looking for turned himself in – for any crime – and is still alive, he's probably in jail there. And if he's dead, the police might have his possessions. And even if none of that ever happened, the police station probably has records of business thefts, and maybe those could help us find him, somehow. It's certainly better than wandering around looking randomly.

"Yeah," I say rather tersely, "let's give that a try."

* * *

David cooks some type of stir-fry for dinner, and we eat in our same seats in the living room. The food is surprisingly tasty, though that might be because the only previous meals I've eaten in this country were absolutely awful. Still, I take note of the spices he used so I can suggest them to Uriah when we get back. He's always looking to experiment with new recipes.

I offer to clean up afterwards, out of some old Abnegation habit, or perhaps because I'm used to taking turns with chores in my current faction, but David adamantly refuses. It's clear that he's determined to take care of his guests.

So, Kevin and I sit in silence while David washes the dishes by hand, his clinking noises carrying in from the kitchen.

"You didn't tell me about the broadcast," Kevin finally says, watching me carefully. "Why not?"

I shrug, looking away uncomfortably. I knew this subject was likely to arise, but that doesn't make me any more anxious to discuss it.

"It didn't seem important," I mutter.

"_Really?_" Kevin states, raising an eyebrow. "You're in an abuse support group, and you didn't think it was relevant to tell your _sponsor_ that you broadcast a message about your own personal abuse to an entire country? That didn't seem worth sharing?"

I'm not sure whether to be amused or annoyed at that description. When he says it like that, it seems ludicrous that I didn't speak up sooner, but I know that's not the full story.

"It didn't change what happened to me, or what I did, or what I need to do next," I argue back. "So, why does it matter?"

Kevin opens his mouth to answer but then closes it again, staring at me with a confused, flustered expression as if he can't even begin to formulate a response. It's a rare look to see on an Erudite.

"Tobias," he finally says, "judging by everything I heard today, you single-handedly changed the face of abuse for all of NUSA. Our program helps some fifty people a year, but you…." He pauses, shaking his head a little," You helped _hundreds of thousands_ – maybe millions – of people in one fell swoop. That isn't something to ignore."

But I want to do exactly that. I'm even quite sure why – I just know that the need to move is suddenly coursing through me, and I'm on my feet and pacing the room before I have a chance to think about it. Kevin watches me, his face appraising, and I know he's waiting for me to be ready to talk.

So, I try to think my way through this. It bothered me to share what I did in the broadcast, of course. Those memories were far too personal for me to want to show them to everyone. But at the same time, I don't regret doing that, not after seeing how much it helped people. And I've talked about those same memories in group sessions, so it's not as if I'm trying to hide them from Kevin. I just don't want to talk about the transmission itself….

And finally it occurs to me why.

"I shouldn't have done the broadcast at all," I admit, pulling the words painfully out of me. "Tris was always better at it. She was supposed to do it."

Kevin waits, but I can't seem to say anything else. Anger is pulsing through me now, but it's not directed at him. It's aimed squarely at me.

"The only reason she didn't," I add bitterly, "is because I broke her ribs and left her lying half-dead in a basement." The self-hatred is building, and I snarl, "How am I supposed to take _credit_ for that? As if it's something _good_?"

I turn away from Kevin, pacing the small room furiously. All I can picture now is the way Tris looked as she slumped down the wall that I smashed her into. As she gasped for air she couldn't find while the light slowly left her eyes. She could so easily have died in that moment, and it would have been entirely my fault.

And people want to treat me like a hero because of that? _No._ I won't put up with it.

The need to hit something is abruptly overwhelming. I need to _move_, to get this adrenaline out of me, to turn it outwards and keep it from smashing and slicing and eating up everything inside me. I claw at the sides of my head, trying to somehow release it.

Kevin's hands grip my wrists hard, halting my motion and freezing me in place. My eyes snap to his, glaring.

"Tobias," he says firmly. "Stop."

I step back quickly, pulling myself free in a sharp motion. But then I stand still, breathing hard and trying to regain control of myself. I've never seen Kevin intervene physically before, and I know if he's doing it now, it must be because he was afraid of what I'd do. That I'd hurt myself.

So, I start my calming routine, breathing in and out while I repeatedly form my hands into fists and force them open again. Finally, I nod stiffly. Kevin nods too before speaking.

"I'm not going to minimize what you did to Tris," he tells me solidly. "You know I'll never do that. But it's important to recognize the things we do _right_ as well as the ones we do wrong. And regardless of the circumstances around it, you did a lot of good with that broadcast."

Some type of scoffing noise comes out of me, and Kevin gives a long, discouraged sigh in response. He runs his hands down the sides of his face.

"Can I ask you a question?" he finally says, his voice softer now.

Part of me wants to snap _no_, but I do know that he's trying to help. And he's done enough for me in the past to deserve my attention now. So, I nod, swallowing hard.

His voice is very quiet this time. "Do you think that my sponsoring people makes up for what I did to Elena?"

The words startle me out of my current train of thought, and for a few seconds, I just stare at him.

"No," I answer honestly.

He nods a little, to himself I think. "I agree," he says. His expression is vulnerable when he meets my gaze again. "But is it worth doing anyway?"

The word forms itself without conscious thought – "Yes" – and suddenly I understand his point. It's impossible to accept it as right, but at the same time…I can't argue against it. The good he's doing is separate from the harm he caused, and both need to be remembered. And the same is true with me.

I just don't know if I can do that yet.

"Look," Kevin continues, his voice still unusually soft, "it's obvious that you're not comfortable discussing this yet. I'm sorry I pushed you." He holds his hands up, palms out, in a reassuring motion, and something inside me does relax a little in response.

"I'm just going to say one more thing," he adds, "because it's something I need to say and something you need to hear, and then I'll drop it. Okay?"

I look at him uncertainly, not sure if I should agree, but I finally nod. Kevin has never steered me wrong before.

He nods a little, too, his expression serious. "Thank you," he says firmly. His gaze holds mine. "I've lived the full spectrum of abuse, so it seems fair for me to say that on behalf of everyone who will never have to live it because of you. Everyone who will never be hit the way you and I both were. And everyone who will never know the horror of losing control and hurting the people they love, and then having to live with that for the rest of their lives."

He closes his eyes and repeats, "Thank you."

All I can do is stare. In that moment, I'm sure I'll never be able to speak again. Some strange type of prickly energy is travelling up and down every nerve in my body, and it's completely closing my throat.

"Someday, you'll be ready to accept those thanks," Kevin says softly. "It may be tomorrow, or it may be ten years from now. It's okay either way." One side of his mouth lifts a little. "We'll talk about it again whenever you're ready to say 'you're welcome.'"

It's impossible to answer verbally, so I just turn my attention to the floor, looking at the worn carpet as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world. After a very long time, I finally nod, acknowledging his words. Whether I respond to them or not, I know they're now firmly imbedded in my brain, and they'll stick with me until we eventually talk about this again.

I just don't know yet if that's a good or bad thing.

* * *

David insists on sleeping on the floor, leaving the bed and the couch available for his guests. I try to take the couch, knowing that Kevin is too tall for it, but really, he only has an inch on me, so it's a weak argument. And when he ultimately refuses to get off it, insisting he'd rather just sleep there, I give up and head to the bedroom.

It's hardly a shock that my sleep is restless, filled with dreams of my father and NUSA and Tris. I wake up in the very early morning, momentarily disoriented and alarmed, and then lie there listening to my heart pounding in the silent apartment. When I finally fall asleep again, I enter a dream I didn't expect.

I'm wandering around this country that used to be NUSA, while person after person approaches me. A little girl with bruises all over her face smiles at me and whispers, "Thank you." She's followed by a boy who might be her brother, though it's hard to tell through the blood covering his head. He grasps my arm, catching my attention as he echoes the girl's words.

A middle-aged woman who bears some resemblance to my mother follows them, murmuring her thanks as she touches my cheek lightly. She's joined by the manager from the store we visited earlier in the day, and then by her children and finally her husband. He holds my gaze for a very long time before saying, "Thank you for saving me from myself."

He shakes my hand, and when he moves away, I realize that there's a long line of people waiting to greet me. They approach me one by one, each showing me their injuries or those they inflicted, and each thanking me for changing their lives.

The line goes on and on, an endless stream of abusers and victims, until I can no longer see the individuals and I lose all sense of time. It's not until a familiar face emerges that I focus again.

My father is in front of me, standing tall and straight and wearing Abnegation gray. His eyes are on me, the same dark blue that I grew up fearing and hating. But now they look the way they did the last time I saw him – when he looked like he was proud of me.

"Thank you, son," he tells me, his voice breaking in a manner I've never heard before. "For making sure it ended with me."

He shifts to the side a little, and suddenly he's holding an infant – a child with the same deep blue eyes, and I stare at it, wondering even in the dream if it's me.

But I get my answer when he turns to the side, handing the baby to a woman who has just appeared, and I find myself looking at Tris as she holds what I now know without question is our child.

A longing like I've never felt before goes through me at the sight of them together – at the idea that I could be with them. That I could have this life.

The people around them fade into the background as my eyes lock with Tris'. She holds the baby up, as if offering it to me, and she steps closer.

"Thank you, Tobias," she says softly, her face filled with love and trust. "Thank you for keeping us safe."

I don't know how long I stare at her and at our child before I answer.

"You're welcome," I whisper.

_**A/N: I'm going on a short vacation, so it will probably be a week before the next chapter is posted. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. It's obviously an important one in both plot and character development, so I'd really appreciate your feedback. Thanks!**_


	8. Chapter 8: Tobias - Police Station

_**A/N: I'm sorry to take a couple of days longer than expected to post this chapter. I could give a long explanation, but the quick version is that life happens... Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Thank you also to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie, who managed to review this chapter despite a crazy work schedule and a last-minute power failure! I really appreciate it.  
**_

**Chapter 8: Tobias – Police Station**

David leaves the store in his employees' hands, taking the day off so he can go with us to Pittsburgh's main police station. It's too far to walk easily, so instead we return to where we left the car and drive from there.

The station is in a large, five-story building surrounded by barbed wire fencing. It has an intimidating aura to it, but it's difficult to really know what to make of it, since I'm used to Dauntless being the police force for our city. It's strange to see a standalone building serve that role.

The guards at the front entrance tell us to empty our pockets, put everything from them into buckets, and walk through some type of scanning equipment. The entire process makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and it's difficult to resist the urge to refuse – vehemently. But David and Kevin go first, and when it's obvious the guards are doing exactly what they said they'd do, I finally decide to submit.

The guards look oddly at the jewelry from my pockets, but they pass it through the equipment and return it to me without a word.

We aren't sure where to go next, so we end up making our way to the large, circular receptionist desk that sits in the middle of the lobby. It reminds me of the building we invaded in Philadelphia so long ago, and I feel a twinge as I remember the guards we shot there that day. One of them was looking me directly in the eyes when my father killed him….

"May I help you?" a voice asks politely, and I force my attention back to the present. The middle-aged woman at the desk is watching me curiously, clearly waiting for an answer.

"Um, hopefully," I respond, giving my best Abnegation smile to match the one on her face. "We're trying to track down someone we think might have been questioned during NUSA's last few days. Are there records we could examine for that, or someone we could talk to?"

She cocks her head at that request, pursing her lips thoughtfully, before she consults a notebook. "No one has asked me that before," she comments as she flips through the pages, "so please give me a moment to find the right person."

We do, watching as she pauses on pages at times, scanning carefully for the information she wants.

"Hmmm," she finally says, "I'm not finding a great match here, but let's try Ms. Hamilton. She's in charge of the transition from NUSA's control, so she would probably know more than anyone else."

I nod, waiting patiently while she makes a phone call. When she's finished, she smiles and tells us it will be just another moment.

"You're welcome to have a seat if you'd like," she says sweetly, gesturing to a set of chairs against the far wall of the room. But we opt to stand, looking a bit nervously around the busy lobby as people of all ages come and go. A fair number of them wear the same uniform; it's one I haven't seen before, and I assume it must be the current police uniform.

The figure that eventually approaches us is wearing that same uniform, but that's not what I notice as she draws near. Instead, I compare the way she looks now with how I saw her last, as she lay bloody and weak on the floor of the NUSA vehicle we drove from Toledo to Pittsburgh.

"Lauren," I say, surprised.

She stops, equally startled, before she grins widely. "Four. I should have known." She reaches out to shake my hand Dauntless-style, and I reciprocate, though as awkwardly as I always shake hands.

"Not many people come here looking for NUSA prisoners," she adds, "so I wasn't sure what to expect. And out of our original little group, Peter is the one who usually works with me." Her face takes on a worried tinge as she glances at my companions and then returns her gaze to me. "Nothing's happened to him, has it?"

I shake my head quickly. "Not as far as I know," I answer. But I have no idea what to add after that, since it's not like I know anything about Peter's current status. Or Lauren's, for that matter.

"How did you end up here?" I ask, suddenly curious.

"Ah, you know how it goes," she says easily. "I fell for one of the rebels who took care of me while we were hiding, so I stayed to see if it would work out." She shrugs. "It didn't, but in the meantime I ended up with a job I enjoy, where I feel like I'm making a difference, and I formed some new friendships. So, for now anyway, this is home."

She smiles again before turning to Kevin. For a moment, her eyes move up and down his form, and her expression reminds me of how Zeke always gazed at his dates – with unmistakable interest.

"And you are?" she asks, her voice a bit suggestive.

"Married," he answers drily.

Lauren flushes slightly but then smiles again. "That's an odd name, but it's good to meet you, Mr. Married."

Kevin chuckles before introducing himself properly, followed by David. When we're done, Lauren leads us deep into the building and up two flights of stairs, listening as we walk. I explain what we're trying to do as briefly as possible, though I'm honest in what I tell her. It would be wrong to lie to someone who went on the mission with me, particularly in front of a person who learned the value of honesty from my broadcast.

"I'm not sure how much I'll be able to help," Lauren says after I finish. "I mean, I'll try, but we haven't exactly prioritized crimes against NUSA. We've been too busy rebuilding the police force and catching everyone who was part of the old government." She glances at David before adding, "There were a lot of wealthy people and business owners who weren't on the serum and have been trying to regain power, so we've been focused on tracking them down."

I nod, trying not to show my disappointment. Their goal is appropriate, of course, but unfortunately it doesn't do me much good right now.

"What happened to the prisoners that NUSA had?" Kevin asks.

The expression on Lauren's face tells me the answer before she says it. "There weren't any." It's obvious why. NUSA killed its prisoners too quickly for there to be any left.

"Did they keep records of the people they questioned?" I ask, trying to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach at the thought of what that questioning entailed. An image of the device on Amar's head, and the matching one on Tris', lodges itself behind my eyes.

"Yeah, they kept great records," she answers, her face and tone conveying deep disgust. "They're the most cruel thing I've ever seen – and the number of them is utterly horrifying – but if they'll help you, you can certainly go through them. We're not doing anything with them anyway."

To my surprise, she reaches out and lays a hand on my shoulder. "And I think you've earned a little trust, Four."

The gesture is obviously meant to be kind, so I nod stiffly, trying not to flinch away. But I'm relieved when Kevin clears his throat, drawing Lauren's attention to him.

"Can we also look at the records of current prisoners?" he asks. It's a sensible question, given how much speculation we're operating under. The man we're looking for might well be from one of the prominent families after all, or be another type of criminal.

Lauren looks more cautious this time. "I can't show you the complete records," she says, frowning a little. "Some of that is confidential. But I can let you search the mug shots if that would help."

Somewhat to my surprise, it's David who answers. "Yes, that would be very helpful," he tells her eagerly.

But I don't say anything. There's always the chance that we'll luck out and he'll find the face we're seeking, but I doubt it. That kind of luck never seems to run my way.

* * *

The next few hours are frustrating. NUSA's records are sorted by date, so we start with the latest ones and work backwards to the day the ring was bought. As Lauren said, the records are awful to read, and when we finish without finding the man we're looking for, I don't know whether to be relieved or aggravated. I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, but it's difficult to realize we read through all those horrors for no gain.

We move on to the current prisoner database next, sorting by physical description and then letting David look at every matching mug shot. It takes time and ultimately ends in failure, too. Apparently, our mystery buyer has never been arrested.

We finally turn to NUSA's unsolved cases, knowing we won't get a definite identification out of those but hoping to come across _something_ we can use. At least this part of the effort shouldn't take long, since as David said yesterday, there was very little crime against NUSA and against those it favored. In fact, there were only eight open investigations in process at the time that government was ousted. Since they're in paper files, we split them up so we can dive into them four at a time.

"Bingo!" Lauren says with satisfaction a half-hour later. She drops her current folder onto the table in front of us before continuing.

"The big companies used to lock their employees in during the work day – which lasted fourteen hours, by the way. The employees were forced to purchase meals from the company's cafeteria during that time, and they had to pay cash for what they bought. It was a way of keeping them indentured to the company."

I suspect where she's going with this, and it's clear from Kevin's expression that he does, too, but neither of us interrupts.

"That cash was deposited by the company every week or two," she adds, "so a good amount accumulated in between deposits. And judging by this file, someone started stealing it." She smiles a little. "Whoever it was got away with a hefty amount from five different companies."

"Bingo, indeed," Kevin says appreciatively as he picks up the folder. "That's frankly an amazing fit to what we were speculating."

He's right, and the words are reassuring in more ways than one. They tell me that our guesses were good, which gives me hope that we'll find Anna's ring yet. It's also nice to know that the man who bought that ring wasn't stealing from people in need, but instead from companies that were basically robbing those people.

"Did they have any leads on who the thief was?" I ask, moving so I'm standing behind Kevin and trying to read over his shoulder.

"It doesn't look like it," he answers, his mouth flattening somewhat. "But it's still better than nothing. Chances are the guy lived in between the companies' locations. And we can figure out what type of home he could afford based on how much he took. That should narrow things down a lot."

I nod, but then I look at Lauren as a thought occurs to me.

"If we find this guy," I ask her, "will he be in trouble?"

She considers that for a moment. "Not with me. Heck, I might offer him a job arresting the people he used to steal from." She chuckles. "It takes some guts to do what he did, and he's obviously pretty smart if he got away with it. I could use someone like that here."

I can't help grinning in response. It's good to know we won't be causing our thief harm if we're able to find him. It would feel wrong to retrieve Anna's ring under circumstances like that.

For the next hour, we map out the neighborhoods where our thief is most likely to be living. We end up with a list of five, which is certainly far better than how we started the day – but still nowhere near close enough. It would take weeks to search those locations door to door, and we can't stay away from Chicago that long.

I finally step back, looking at our map and running a frazzled hand through my hair. There must be _something_ we're missing. Some way of narrowing this down further….

"I think we need lunch," I mutter.

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," Kevin states flatly, tossing his pencil onto the table and stretching. "Where can we eat?"

"Ironically," Lauren says, one corner of her mouth lifting, "in the building's cafeteria."

It's not an appealing idea, but we end up eating there anyway. It's apparently as good as anywhere else, and at least this way we won't have to go through security again.

As we eat, I find myself looking around, imagining the employees being locked in here – forced to spend their hard-earned money buying this food at inflated prices. And I find myself agreeing with Lauren. Our thief provided a type of justice – certainly not a perfect one, but one that was better than letting companies continue to profit off their employees' misery.

And he spent the money on a ring for his girlfriend, so they could be married in time for their child to enter the world. An image comes to mind from my dream last night, of Tris holding a baby with my dark blue eyes, and I can understand his urge to buy that ring.

The realization hits me so suddenly I almost drop my food.

"We're looking at this wrong," I tell the others sharply. Their eyes turn to me, and I continue quickly. "We've only been searching the criminal databases, but we know he was planning to get married, and we know they were expecting a baby soon. We need to search those records, too."

Kevin sits up straighter, his mouth opening in a dumbfounded expression. "You're right," he says. "We need to cross-reference those databases against the neighborhoods we came up with, and find anyone who was married and then had a child within, say, six months of when he bought the ring. That should narrow the list considerably."

"Particularly if the records include physical descriptions," I add, knowing that our thief's age and hair color will make the list even shorter.

Kevin nods, a grin forming on his face, and after a second, a matching one appears on David. Lauren, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable. We're probably not supposed to have access to that type of information.

But our enthusiasm must be contagious, because after a moment, she smiles. "Okay," she says, "but I'll have to do the searching. Those records are confidential."

* * *

"Michael O'Clery," Lauren announces, turning to us with a flourish as she wheels her desk chair out of the way. "He's the only one who matches all your criteria."

We crowd around the monitor, staring at what appears to be an official identification picture of a young man with reddish blond hair.

David grins widely. "That's him!" he declares, his tone filled with excitement and something like pride. For the first time, it occurs to me that he's probably felt guilty about selling that ring ever since my broadcast. This is his chance to redeem himself almost as much as it's mine.

"Do you know where that is?" I ask him as I point to the address beneath Michael's photo.

"Yes," he and Lauren answer simultaneously.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Kevin asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder and looking at the others. "Let's go get Tris' ring."

I don't bother to correct him as we head for the door. It's not Tris' ring yet, but someday, it definitely should be.

* * *

_**A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your reviews do more than anything else to motivate me to find time to write and post even when things are crazy busy, so thank you very, very much for each and every one of them!**_

_**By the way, we're getting close to the end of the Pittsburgh story arc, and then we'll move on to Anna, Tris, and Caleb for a little while before we see some Fourtris time.**_


	9. Chapter 9: Tobias - Getting a Micky

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really loved your comments. Thank you also to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**A couple of notes...**_

_**1\. A reviewer was having trouble finding my "Determinant" story. To find that, click on the "Windchimed" link at the top of this page. That will take you to my Profile page. Scroll all the way to the bottom of that, and you'll see my other stories.**_

_**2\. Another reviewer asked what my favorite "Divergent" fanfictions and authors are. You can find links to most of those on my fanfiction Profile page as well. There are some additional links on my "Archive of Our Own" profile page. Please check those out - there are some very good stories and authors linked there. **_

_**Now, on to the story...**_

* * *

**Chapter 9: Tobias – Getting a Micky**

I should have known it wouldn't be this easy. But that doesn't stop the bitter disappointment from going through me when we find out that Michael O'Clery has moved. The current resident of the apartment seems to have no idea where he went.

"I think he moved out a month before I came here," she says, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips as if in thought. "So, at least four months ago."

"Do people register new addresses anywhere in this city?" Kevin asks Lauren, but she shakes her head a little.

"It's only required for certain events – getting married, buying a house, getting a driver's license. Other than that, people rarely bother…particularly if they'd rather stay hidden."

I can't help the frustrated noise that comes out of me in response to that statement. Michael is undoubtedly in that category. He probably has been his entire life – first, because he was resistant to the serum and later because he was committing crimes against NUSA's pet corporations. We won't find his new address easily.

I turn away from the others, running a hand through my hair as I pace a few steps back and forth, trying to think of what we can do next. We've come too far to just give up now, but if we can't find the buyer, how else can we possibly find Anna's ring? It's not unique enough for me to describe it in an ad of any kind, and I don't have a photo of it. And it's not like I can send a broadcast of it to the whole city, even if that's a tempting thought at the moment….

My gaze wanders back to the young woman who answered the door. She's looking between us, her expression wary, and something about her nags at me.

"Has anyone else come looking for him?" I ask her, hoping that a friend or a bill collector – or anyone really – has been by. That would at least give us a starting point for tracking him down.

"No," she answers quickly. "No one." But her response is too fast, and she twines her fingers together as if she's nervous. The nagging feeling gets stronger as the Candor in me seizes on those indicators. There's something she's not telling us.

"Does anyone else live here?" I ask in my instructor voice, knowing it will intimidate her. "Anyone who might have answered the door?"

Her body gives a slight, involuntary twitch at my tone, and she's _definitely_ nervous when she responds.

"My mother and younger siblings do, but they never answer the door. I guarantee they haven't talked to anyone." Again, the answer is rushed, and not very believable.

She swallows, her eyes flitting to Kevin and then Lauren and back to me, and abruptly I realize our mistake. Lauren is still wearing her police uniform, and Kevin and I are big and frightening. If I were trying to protect someone who had broken the law, I certainly wouldn't tell people like us anything.

"We're not here to hurt him," I say as reassuringly as I can. "In fact, we want to make him an offer."

For a fraction of a second, her face freezes in panic as she realizes that I'm on to her, but then she masks it. It's enough to tell me I'm right. _She's hiding him._

"I…I'm not…" she begins, but Kevin interrupts her.

"You're his sister, aren't you? I can see the resemblance."

The words startle me, making me stare for a second, and then the feeling that has been nagging at me clicks into place. Kevin is right. This woman's hair is a light brown, instead of the blondish red we saw in the photo, but her facial structure has definite similarities to Michael's. Enough to be his younger sister.

"N-no," she stutters, her eyes growing wide with fear despite her best efforts to hide it. "Of course not. What would make you say that?"

David responds before any of the rest of us can.

"This isn't what you think." His voice is gentle, and he steps a little closer to her, raising a hand in supplication. She eyes it apprehensively.

"We know that your brother committed crimes during the NUSA days," David adds in the same soft tone, "but we don't care about that. We're definitely not on NUSA's side." He turns toward me and places a hand on my arm. I stiffen despite myself. "Look at this man closely. He seems familiar to you, doesn't he?"

Her gaze jumps back to me, and she stares somewhat wildly as David continues. "That's because he's the one who did the broadcast that freed us all. He's certainly not with NUSA." David smiles a little.

The woman's reaction is much like Emily's in the store yesterday, as she takes a half-step backwards and lifts her hands to her mouth. I can't say I like seeing people respond to me this way, but the cynical part of me realizes that at the moment, it could be useful. So, I watch her levelly, giving her time to process my identity.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asks. "And what do you need Micky for?" The words send a surge of relief through me. She _does_ know him.

"It's nothing bad," I answer clearly. "I promise." She keeps staring at me, a type of desperation in her face, and I do my best to make my voice mild. "He bought something that used to belong to the president. I just want to buy it back if he's willing to sell it." I give the most soothing smile I can manage. "I'll give him a lot more than he paid for it."

She's clearly still extremely hesitant, so I soften my voice even more. "Please. It would mean a lot to me. And to Tris."

For a very long moment, our gazes stay locked, and then she swallows hard. Her eyes close as she nods.

"Okay," she says. "I'll get him."

* * *

We wait in the apartment, listening politely as Micky's mother tells us about how he bought this place for them a year earlier.

"It was hard after their father died," Carol says. "My income wasn't enough to support five children and afford rent, so we ended up on the streets for a couple of years. It was a blessing when Micky found a job."

She looks around fondly, clearly associating the apartment with her oldest son. "He lived here with us, of course, until he and Luella were married. Such a sweet girl…." She smiles. "And their little one is adorable. I couldn't ask for a cuter grandchild."

I glance around, realizing that the apartment is very similar to David's. Carol obviously considers it to be an incredible luxury, and it certainly is compared with living on the streets. But it would be an extremely tight fit for five people, let alone seven. I can see why Micky wanted a more private location to live in with his wife and child.

Carol gestures vaguely towards the bedroom as she adds, "And now that my second son, Rory, is old enough to watch the young ones, Mary is looking for work too." She nods a little to herself. "So things are getting better."

For a moment, I watch the children playing in the bedroom, their tones hushed. The oldest one can't be much over ten, but I suppose that's old enough to be responsible for his younger siblings in this world.

"Are you sure I can't get you something to eat or drink?" Carol asks solicitously, but we all politely decline. I'm not about to take anything away from this family.

So, instead, we wait and make small talk for what feels like hours, some combination of anxiety and excitement growing steadily in me the entire time. I'm so close to being able to retrieve Anna's ring, but I can't help worrying that Micky will refuse to sell it to me. And then what will I do?

My agitation is interrupted when the front door finally opens. Mary comes in, looking as nervous as she did earlier, and her eyes go instantly to me as if looking for reassurance. She must find it, because she smiles a little as she steps to the side.

There's no mistaking the young man who enters behind her. His hair is longer than in the photo, but he's clearly the one we're looking for. Relief mixes in with the tension in my stomach, and I'm on my feet and across the room almost before I realize it.

He watches me warily, but there's something of awe in his expression, and I know he recognizes me.

"Hi," he says, his voice catching a little. He clears his throat. "I'm Micky."

"Tobias." I extend my hand Dauntless-style, and he shakes it hesitantly. It's rare for me to have the better handshake.

"Mary said you were looking for me?"

"Yes." I nod. "Thank you for coming." But then I pause, suddenly uncertain how to actually approach this issue. I suppose it's better to simply dive in.

"You bought a ring at a pawn shop just before my broadcast." I gesture toward David and add, "From him."

Micky's eyebrows rise, and it's clear he knows exactly what I'm talking about – and was hoping that wasn't it. I'll need to convince him to part with it….

"Tris and I had to sell that ring in order to finance our mission to end NUSA." I might as well appeal to his anti-NUSA attitude. "But we didn't want to, because it belonged to her grandmother." I swallow, meeting his gaze. "And it's the only family heirloom she has."

Clearing my throat, I add, "It means a lot to her. So, I want to buy it back – for twice what you paid for it." I don't know how much money he has left from his last theft, but perhaps that offer will be appealing enough.

Micky's face is conflicted, and he looks away for a long moment. "It's my wife's," he says softly. His eyes flit to his mother for a second, and he lowers his voice to a whisper in what seems to be an attempt to keep her from hearing. "We've had to sell everything else. I can't take that away, too."

And I understand. He only has two things left from the money he stole – his mother's apartment and his wife's ring, and he can't bear to take either of them away from the women he loves.

But maybe there's a way to substitute something of equal meaning.

"I know your thefts were in some ways a rebellion against NUSA," I begin. His eyes shoot to mine. "And I respect that. I'm sure there's extra meaning in that ring because you bought it with money you took from that corrupt system." He hesitates briefly but then nods, stiffly.

I nod, too. My voice is quieter as I continue. "What if I can offer you another way to get that same meaning, while also buying back that ring?"

He furrows his eyebrows, looking at me uncertainly. But he seems willing to listen. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the jewelry that I brought with me from Chicago, and I extend my hand so he can see the pieces lying on my palm.

"I bought these," I say simply. His expression tells me he doesn't understand, so I clarify, "The man whose broadcast destroyed NUSA bought these…using money that came from that destruction." It's a true statement, since I paid for the jewelry from the "hero's pension" that Chicago gives us each month.

A flash of emotion goes through Micky's eyes at that, and his gaze moves between me and the jewelry several times as he processes my words.

"If you and your wife picked one of these," I say softly, "would it have that same meaning? Enough for you to let me buy Tris' ring back?"

Micky opens his mouth to answer but then closes it again, staring instead at the four rings in my hand. They vary in style, from fancier than Anna's ring to simpler ones.

"I don't know," he finally says thoughtfully. He looks up at me again before adding, "But maybe, yeah…."

His gaze turns to his mother briefly, and I suspect he's weighing her needs as well as his wife's.

He nods a little. His voice is a strange mix of fatigue and worry and desire when he says, "I'll talk to Luella."

* * *

_**A/N: Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. As some of you know from my "Becoming Determinant" story, I'm sick right now (I caught a really nasty cold), so I've been sitting around feeling miserable. Your reviews have been doing a really good job of cheering me up, and I would definitely appreciate more of them! :-)**_


	10. Chapter 10: Micky - Hard Choices

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm sorry this one is a bit late. My schedule is still crazy, and it didn't help that my cold turned into a sinus infection and was then promptly followed by another cold. Ugh. Anyway, the next chapter will hopefully be posted a lot sooner. In the meantime, thank you as always to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! Thank you also to BK2U, who has kindly agreed to review chapters when I'm running behind and can't give Rosalie the turnaround time she needs for her busy schedule. I really appreciate the help from both of you!**_

* * *

**Chapter 10: Micky – Hard Choices**

Luella is nursing Kaylee when I get home, and for a moment I forget all words as I watch the two of them. I don't know what I ever did to deserve them.

Scratch that. I know perfectly well I _don't_ deserve them. If I did, I wouldn't be standing here trying to figure out how to tell my wife that I've never been honest with her.

But I greet them normally, with a gentle kiss on my daughter's head and a firmer one on my wife's lips. I've spent my whole life hiding behind a façade of normalcy, so it doesn't exactly take much effort even now.

"Hi," Luella says softly, trying not to disrupt Kaylee. I smile in response. "Any luck today?" she asks, her voice hopeful.

"In a way…." I reach down to stroke the baby's head so I don't have to meet Luella's eyes. "It's not a job, but…well, it's something we need to discuss."

"Okay…" she says slowly, clearly not sure what to make of my comment. I'm not usually so vague.

"I'll make dinner while you finish with Kaylee," I add, still avoiding eye contact. The upcoming conversation is frankly a bit petrifying.

But by the time I have dinner ready, and Kaylee is sound asleep, I can't avoid this any longer.

"You never asked what work I used to do," I say softly. The tone is an old habit to make sure the neighbors can't hear discussions like this.

"You didn't seem to want to share it," Luella murmurs, and I can't help smiling a bit. So few people respect privacy in our society, and I love that she's always tried to protect mine.

But my smile fades as I scrub a hand through my hair, thinking about how to tell her this.

"It's a long story," I finally say, "and I should probably start at the beginning." She just nods, listening attentively.

"My whole family was resistant to the broadcasts," I begin, my heart hammering at the admission. It would have meant death to say that aloud during most of my life. "My parents taught us to hide it, and to always pretend we were like everyone else, and we did. We were model citizens in public. But in private, I hated it. I hated the whole government, and all the lies they fed us."

It's impossible to hide my disgusted sneer, but Luella just nods encouragingly, waiting for me to continue. So, I do.

"I managed to deal with it until Dad died. You probably don't know this, but he was killed in a plant accident." My voice turns even more bitter. "The company locked everyone in during work days, and one day there was a fire. No one could get out…so they died."

Luella places a hand on my arm. "I'm sorry, Micky," she whispers.

"You're not the one who should've been sorry," I snap, my fury fresh even years after Dad's death. "It was the damned company's fault, but of course no one would admit that in those days." I shake my head. "They didn't do anything for us. They didn't even pay to bury what was left of him. So, we had that cost on top of grieving, and having one less income. Of course we ended up on the streets, like practically everyone else."

My throat closes, and I stare at my plate until I find my voice again. "I was so afraid that my little siblings would show they were resistant to the broadcasts, and then we'd all be killed. And I _hated_ the company that Dad worked for. I hated them _so much_. So, I found myself watching them, and thinking about how to get even, and after a while…I figured out where they were vulnerable."

I meet Luella's eyes as I finally – for the first time since I met her – tell her what I really used to do. "And then I stole a bunch of money from them."

Something indefinable passes over her face – surprise or maybe satisfaction. It's hard to say, but at least she doesn't look like she's angry with me. That'll do for now, so I continue my story.

"It was enough to buy an apartment for my family. I told them I'd found a job, and they didn't ask a lot of questions. But my sister Mary suspected I was up to something. We were always close, and she was as resistant to the messages as I was. And as furious about what happened to Dad. So, eventually I told her what I'd done." I smile a little at the memory of how she reacted – of how _thrilled_ she was. How proud.

"She suggested we do the same thing to other companies. Ones that were as awful as Dad's. So, we set about figuring them out, too. We'd watch, and talk to people, pretending we were interested in working at that company and wanted to know more about it. Stuff like that. And then we'd strike…. We got away with a lot of cash. A LOT."

Here I hesitate, not sure what my wife will think of the next bit, but if I'm going to ask her to part with her wedding ring, I need to be honest about why it's necessary.

"We used the money to live, of course, but we also gave some away…mostly to the families of Dad's coworkers. The ones who died with him. It felt right to give some of the company's money back to them, though we certainly didn't tell them where it came from." I give a short laugh. "That would have been suicidal."

Luella takes my hand, her fingers linking with mine. I can see the pride in her eyes as she says, "You probably saved some of their lives, you know."

"Yeah, maybe we did. I like to think so, anyway." I look away uncomfortably as I add, "But it used the money up too fast. And then when NUSA was overthrown…well, there wasn't really anywhere to steal from anymore. At least, not that we wouldn't feel guilty about taking from. So, we ended up…." I gesture around with my hands at our largely bare apartment. We've sold almost everything.

"We ended up like this."

I can see the understanding on Luella's face. She knows now why we're poor, why we're on the brink of being tossed out of here.

"Micky…." She stops, at a loss for words. She opens and closes her mouth twice before abruptly leaning over and kissing me. "That's about the bravest thing I've ever heard," she whispers.

I'm damned good at hiding my reactions, but I'm pretty sure my shock shows this time. Luella smiles.

Gesturing around the apartment, she says, "You think I care about any of the stuff we sold? Of course I don't. I love _you_. You and Kaylee. As long as I have you two, I'm happy." She's smiling even more now, and it lifts my heart more than I care to admit.

"And I'm glad you gave the money away," she insists. "Those people needed it then. A lot more than we do now."

For a moment, I just stare at my wife, so glad that I have her in my life. Then, I nod slowly. "You're right," I say softly, "and I don't regret it. But that's also why it's so hard for me to find a job now. I don't have any real work experience, or contacts, or…anything."

She strokes my arm gently, looking thoughtful.

"What happened today?" she finally asks. "You said you had luck of some type."

I sigh. "I'm not sure I'd call it luck, really. And it's definitely not a job. But…well, I got a really unexpected offer for your ring."

She's more than a little startled. "What do you mean?"

"It's kind of hard to explain…. But, um, well, you know the big broadcast – the one that ended NUSA. The guy who transmitted that, he…found me today." Suddenly, I realize how absurd all of this will sound. Her ring really belongs to the _president_? She'll never believe me, even though it's true.

But the trusting expression on her face tells me that maybe I'm wrong.

"And?" she prompts me.

I sigh. "This is going to sound strange, but he and President Prior came through here on their way to stop NUSA. And they had to sell some stuff to fund their mission."

Luella gasps, and I know she's figured it out. I'm a bit surprised. She's not dumb by any means, but I didn't expect her to get this so quickly.

"Including my ring?" she asks, looking at me for confirmation. "That's it, isn't it?" I close my eyes as I nod.

"The guy – Tobias – he wants to buy it back. He said it means a lot to them. Enough for him to offer twice what I paid, plus a new ring." I bite the inside of my cheek. "I…told him I'd have to ask you."

For several seconds, she just stares at me without blinking, and then her eyes turn to her ring. She smiles a bit wistfully, but her voice is completely even when she finally speaks.

"Micky, we have to do this. After everything they've done for the country, we have to return what's theirs."

"It's ours, too," I insist. "It's _yours_. If you want to keep it, you should. We can find another way, somehow."

She shakes her head quickly. "Micky, I love you. You know that. But like I told you before, I only love this ring because it came from you. If you give me another one, I'll be just as happy. And this…this is right. It helps us _and_ them. We'd be fools not to do it."

For another long moment, I watch her closely, needing to be sure this is what she really wants. There's no question it will solve a lot of problems for us, and if I'm honest with myself, part of me wants to do this for the people who brought NUSA down. They did more than anyone else to get justice for Dad, and I never expected to be able to give them something back for that. But I have to know that Luella is truly okay with this.

She takes my hand, gripping it tightly as she meets my eyes. "Please, Micky," she says gently. "Do this for me, and for Kaylee, and for the president. And for what's right."

I nod.

_**A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought about this chapter. Thanks!**_


	11. Chapter 11: Tobias - Success

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate it.**_

_**I went back and forth on the current chapter a lot, debating whether to include it or just go straight to the next one, but I'm finally going with this one. I owe a tremendous amount of thanks to both Rosalie and BK2U for their help with this chapter! They both gave me ideas and feedback when I was struggling, and they helped shape it into its current form. Thank you both very, very much!  
**_

**Chapter 11: Tobias – Success**

Lauren and Mary seem to have become fast friends, chatting about the city while we wait. It's clear that the younger woman is curious about the police force, and it's not hard to figure out why. It was a deadly threat to her and her family when NUSA was in charge, and she wants to see if that's still the case.

As I watch them talk, I remember Lauren's comment about hiring Micky if we found him. I wonder if she was serious.

"How are you holding up, Tobias?" Kevin asks quietly, keeping his voice low so only I can hear.

"Fine," I answer automatically. It takes me a second to realize it's true. There's an odd peace to having found Anna's ring. Even if Micky decides not to sell it back to me, at least I'll know that I did everything I could to retrieve it.

"Maybe I'm still in shock that we actually found it," I add with a half-smile. Kevin grins in response.

"Yeah, I really didn't think we would," he comments. "I was just waiting for you to give up on your own, but damn if you didn't pull this thing off." He shakes his head a little, still smiling. He's right. Realistically, there's no way we should have succeeded in this effort, but I guess for once luck was on my side.

"I suppose that depends on whether or not Micky returns," I say, my eyes shifting to the door as if I can make him magically appear. That doesn't happen, of course – at least not at that moment. It's not until after Lauren and Mary go get dinner for all of us, and we eat in the crowded apartment, that our thief returns.

It's impossible to read his expression as he walks through the door. He wears the same carefully neutral look that I spent my childhood perfecting, and I know it's for the same reason. It hides his secrets – and has kept him alive this long.

As he enters the room, my gaze turns to the young woman behind him. For a second, as she's half hidden behind Micky, all I see is her long, dark hair braided down her back. Then, her husband moves to the side, and I see the infant sleeping in her arms.

Something jumps a little inside me as the image from last night's dream flashes through my mind – of Tris holding a baby with deep blue eyes. And in that moment, I wonder what right I have to ask this couple to give up their ring, just for Tris to maybe wear it someday. The selfishness grates against my Abnegation instincts.

The woman scans the room, her gaze passing over David and Kevin before fixing on me. She steps closer.

"Tobias?"

"Yes," I answer levelly, standing and approaching her. She shifts the baby into one arm so she can shake my hand. Her grip is gentle.

"I'm Luella," she says. Holding the infant up a little more, she adds, "And this is Kaylee."

The movement exposes her left hand, and for a second, my eyes stop on the ring she's wearing. The image of it sitting on David's counter in the pawn shop so long ago flashes through me, and I know this is the right ring. But I force my gaze to continue on to the baby. She's cute, and again I feel a twinge of guilt.

"Let's sit down," Luella says, "and talk for a bit. I'd like to know more about the person who wants to buy my wedding ring."

The request surprises me, given that everyone in this country already knows more about me than I'd prefer, but I simply walk with her to the sitting area, taking a chair and silently gesturing for Kevin to leave us alone for now. He nods, drawing David with him to a different part of the room while Luella and Micky sit together on the couch. She settles the baby in-between them.

"Can you tell me why the ring is important to you?" Luella asks, her gaze meeting mine. Her voice is gentle, but I can't help feeling like everything rides on what I say next. And the problem is that these two live in a very different culture than where I grew up. I don't know what argument will convince them to sell.

"It belongs to Tris' grandmother, Anna," I begin, picking my words carefully. "We never would have chosen to sell it, but we had no other way to fund our mission against NUSA."

Luella cocks her head at me and asks, "Is Anna's husband still alive?"

"No." I shake my head, understanding why she wants to know. If he could give Anna another ring, there would be no reason to ask for this one back.

"He died trying to protect their children. And their daughter, in turn, died protecting Tris." I pause, scratching the back of my neck as I realize that's the crux of my argument. "Tris' father died the same way. And Tris doesn't have any photographs or mementos of them. She wasn't even able to bury them – others did that during the war. So, she has nothing left of them but memories...and guilt that they died for her."

Luella's expression is thoughtful as she gazes at her ring. "So, this connects Anna and her husband and children and Tris all together." It's a perceptive statement, and all I can do in response is nod.

She smiles a little. "I'm glad it's associated with so much love." Meeting my eyes again, she asks, "Are you planning to marry Tris?"

I freeze. "It's not…." I shake my head, my throat tight. "I don't know if that will ever happen," I manage to add, feeling the need to be honest. "But I believe the ring should be hers someday, whenever she does get married."

For a long moment, Luella regards me in silence. "But you do still love her, don't you?" she finally asks.

My eyes shift to my hands, and I stare at them while trying to figure out how to answer. My instinct in times like this is to hide the truth – to keep my secrets as I always have. But it's obvious that Luella wants to give the ring to me and Tris together. To the couple who ended NUSA. To celebrate the feelings that I broadcast to this entire country.

"That's not why I'm here," I finally say, my voice quiet. "But…yes." It's a difficult admission.

Luella nods slowly. Apparently, the answer satisfies her, because she turns her attention to her husband. He clears his throat.

"Um, maybe you could show her the rings you showed me?" he asks somewhat awkwardly, glancing between me and his wife.

Nodding wordlessly, I pull them out of my pocket, but I opt not to show them directly to Luella. Instead, I offer them to Micky. The corner of his mouth lifts as he takes them, giving me a brief look of gratitude.

"You can have them all," I tell him. His gaze returns to mine, startled, but before he can say anything, I add, "Sell the ones you don't want. I suspect you can do something better with the money than I can."

Luella's mouth quirks, and she gives a slight shake of her head. "You freed the whole country with the money from one ring," she mutters. "It's kind of hard to beat that."

There's no good response to that, so I stay silent, staring uncomfortably at the floor. After a moment, Luella adds, "But as it turns out, Micky has some experience using money to help others, so I'm sure we'll manage."

The words make me look up again, and I see her gazing at her husband with so much pride and love, I feel like I'm intruding merely by witnessing it. But it's also a familiar expression. I'm sure I wore it many times around Tris.

Micky extends his hand to his wife, showing her the rings that he now has laid out on his palm. She cocks her head, evaluating them carefully.

"I like the matched set," she says after a while. "I worry sometimes about scratching Kaylee with the stone on this one, so a plain band would be nice." She meets her husband's eyes and adds, "And it would mean a lot for you to have a matching ring."

He considers that, running a finger over the set she indicated, before he nods.

"I like that idea, too." But when she reaches for the rings, he pulls his hand back, frowning slightly.

"I think," he says slowly, "that we should have a new ceremony to go with the new rings. To make them ours."

Luella's eyebrows draw together uncertainly. "And when would we do that?"

Micky grins. "Right now." The words send a thread of worry through me, an effect that is amplified when he turns to me. "Would it be asking too much for you to officiate?"

The request catches me completely off guard, and for a long moment, I just stare. I've never even attended a wedding, unless you count the one I observed in my fear landscape. I certainly have no idea how to _perform_ the ceremony.

But I don't know how to refuse, either, not when they're doing this in order to return the ring to me. Not when it's the only way of getting it to Tris. So, all I say is, "I have no idea how. And I don't have any legal power, you know."

Micky laughs. "That part doesn't matter. We're already married." He pauses, clearly aware of my discomfort. "And it's okay if you don't have experience doing this. It would still mean a lot for _you_ to do it, after your broadcast."

For another moment, I hesitate, trying to think of a way out of this. But I understand what they're seeking. They want their renewal vows to reflect the values from my broadcast, and they assume I can do that.

"I'll do my best," I finally answer.

* * *

Kevin gives me tips on what to say while everyone else arranges the room for the impromptu ceremony. By the time they finish, Kaylee is awake, and Mary jiggles the baby on her hip while the others get in place for the ceremony.

Micky and Luella stand in front of me, of course, and Kevin stays nearby too, presumably to feed me lines if I forget them. Lauren and David, on the other hand, move to the outskirts of the room, letting Micky's family fill the rest of the space. Vaguely, I wonder if Luella has any living family members. If so, apparently they don't live close enough to be invited.

It's not until Kevin nudges me that I realize we're ready to proceed – and that the entire group is watching me expectantly. I clear my throat hastily.

"We are gathered here today," I begin, keeping my voice formal as Kevin suggested, "to celebrate the marriage of Michael and Luella O'Clery."

They both smile at me, but for some reason the friendly gesture causes a wave of nervousness to go through me, and the other words I just learned seem to vanish from my mind. _This is ridiculous – I have no idea what I'm doing._

But I felt the same way during my broadcast, and somehow I got through that. So, I take a deep breath and draw inspiration from the same person I did that time.

"I grew up in a city that was divided into factions, where each person was supposed to be defined by a single trait. But I was never satisfied with that. It was my goal to be more than that – to be all of those traits simultaneously."

I give a half-smile. "I didn't succeed very well. Until the day I met someone who changed my perspective on everything. She helped me to grow, and to be a better person. She made me stronger."

My eyes move to the couple before me. "I think that's what love should do."

They nod in agreement, gazing at each other with an intensity that I remember feeling so many times when I looked at Tris. It fills me with both joy and sorrow at the same time.

"Micky and Luella, do you promise to be kind to each other? To never harm each other, or your children? To support each other through the hard times? And to continuously celebrate the good times?"

When I pause, they murmur, "I do" in unison.

"Do you promise to be honest, and to always accept honesty from the other, even when it's difficult?" The corner of my mouth lifts. "_Especially_ when it's difficult?"

Again, they both say, "I do."

"Do you promise to think of the other first, and of your family, and to always try to give of yourselves selflessly?"

Luella smiles as they say the words simultaneously. "I do."

"Do you promise to face adversity together, bravely, side by side? No matter what comes?"

Micky stands straighter, jutting his chin out a little, at that statement, but again they respond at the same time. "I do."

"And do you promise to be thoughtful and smart, to trust each other and to talk to each other, and to arrive at decisions together?"

They both smile as they say their final, "I do."

I hesitate briefly, trying to figure out the right words for the next part, since they're already married. Finally, I come up with, "Then face each other as husband and wife and exchange your rings."

They turn to look at each other, and I watch as Luella slowly removes Anna's ring and places it on the small pillow that Micky's youngest brother is holding out to them. She then holds her hand out for Micky to slide the new ring onto her finger, both of them smiling through the tears in their eyes.

Luella next takes the matching ring from the pillow and places that carefully onto Micky's finger. Their hands lace together afterwards, and without waiting for me to say anything, they kiss – a deep, loving kiss that makes me look away, feeling again like I'm invading their privacy.

Apparently, no one else in the room feels that way, because they all burst into cheers, moving forward to embrace the couple. It's impossible not to smile as I watch them, and in that moment, I realize that I don't feel guilty anymore about asking them to return Anna's ring. This ceremony made it okay.

I'm still watching the family when Luella turns back to me. Taking Anna's ring from the pillow the boy is holding, she steps over to me calmly and holds it out with a gentle smile.

"Thank you for loaning this to us," she says. "And for everything else." She squeezes my arm lightly, and for once, I don't object to the touch, even when she stands on tip-toe to kiss my cheek. "The ceremony was perfect," she whispers as she hands me the ring.

My fingers close on the metal band, and for a few seconds, all I can do is stare at it, feeling the full impact of having succeeded. This ring will go back to Anna. And someday, presumably, _this ring_ will be on Tris' finger. I can't help but feel close to her as I hold it.

"Thank you," I tell Luella.

* * *

By the time we leave Mary's apartment, it's too late to head back to Chicago, so David invites us to stay with him again. Kevin accepts without consulting me, but I don't object. I'm too tired to drive, anyway.

Lauren walks with us, asking a variety of questions about what's happening in Chicago these days. Kevin and I take turns answering her.

"Do you plan to return at some point?" I eventually ask her.

"I haven't decided yet," she says thoughtfully. "Sometimes I miss it, but I like a lot of things about this place." She gestures around at the busy streets. "There's such a feeling of _hope_ here, with everyone rebuilding. Back home, with the factions, it was more about duty, and about following the same path as everyone else. But this city is about new ideas, and change. And I guess I kind of like that."

The corner of my mouth twitches. I can't say I ever thought of Lauren as anything other than Dauntless, but I guess it shows there's more depth in all of us than I tend to think.

"Are you going to hire Micky?" I ask.

"Yeah, I think so. Mary, too. That girl's got some serious guts. And they're both very resistant to the serum, which is always helpful." She nods a bit, and I remember Peter's argument back in the hospital in Philadelphia ages ago. The ousted leaders probably have the equipment and serum to influence anyone who comes after them, so it makes sense to send resistant people to capture them.

"Good idea," I comment, coming to a stop near the entrance to David's apartment building.

"Thanks for your help today, Lauren."

"No problem," she says, smiling. "Really. I was glad to do it."

She reaches to shake David's hand, and then Kevin's, exchanging basic farewells with them, before she turns back to me.

"It was good to see you again, Four. Say hi to Tori and Amar and…well, all the others for me, okay?"

"I will."

She grasps my hand firmly Dauntless-style, shaking her head a little at how bad I still am at that skill, before disappearing down the street. As she goes, I remember the last time we said goodbye, and how at the time I never expected to see her alive again. But I push the thought away. It reminds me of all the deaths and injuries on our mission, and of the last time I saw Tris – lying in a hospital bed with bandages hiding most of her body. I don't want to dwell on that.

Instead, I wrap my hand around the ring in my pocket, letting the feel of it ease the image from my mind. For the first time in months, I've done something good for Tris. Maybe I'll let myself dream about that tonight.

* * *

The drive back seems shorter than the one to Pittsburgh, with our moods lightened by success. As before, Kevin and I take turns driving, and we talk, but this time we stop occasionally to enjoy a view or to go through an abandoned city, curious to see the world between Chicago and the former NUSA.

It's not until the last stretch of the trip that Kevin grows serious again.

"How do you plan to return the ring?" he asks. It's an easy question to answer.

"Anna has been coming to Chicago regularly to meet with the city leaders. My mother included. I'll give it to her the next time she comes."

"Just her? Not Tris?"

"Just Anna," I confirm, sighing a little. I know the question means he doesn't trust my judgment regarding my former girlfriend. "Tris hasn't returned at all."

Kevin is silent for a moment before speaking again, his voice conflicted. "I'm not asking for the reasons you think, Tobias." That makes me glance at him for a second before turning back to the road.

"I…actually think you could handle being around Tris at this point."

That's not an easy statement to react to, so I stay quiet. But I'm pretty sure my breathing is a lot louder than normal.

"I'm not saying you'll necessarily get back together with her or anything. And I'm still not going to minimize what you did to her. But…you're a better person than you give yourself credit for." He pauses, looking out the window.

"So, if she ever returns to Chicago, and you want to see her…. Well, as your sponsor, I wouldn't have a problem with that."

I swallow hard, still not answering. Despite his words, I know I need to return the ring to Anna. It's what I've told myself all along, and I need to keep that promise. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate what he's saying.

After a few more moments of silence, Kevin adds, "And just so you know, I wouldn't have a problem with it as your _friend_, either."

A small smile curves my mouth. I may or may not ever have the woman I love in my life again, but it certainly helps to have friends.

_**A/N: Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I really, really love reviews!**_


	12. Chapter 12: Anna - Restoration

**_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You flooded me with responses, and I really, really appreciate it. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time while I was struggling between it and the previous one. You're both fantastic!_  
**

**Chapter 12: Anna – Restoration**

It always feels strange to be back in Chicago these days. It's so small compared with Philadelphia, and the factions seem so…_wealthy_.

It's also very different than how it was when I lived here. The streets are no longer filled with factionless people, and there's a mix of colors among the clothing I see everywhere I look. In some ways, it's more like the country we're struggling to form.

We're getting close to that goal, I must say. The economy is doing much better, and there's a sense of community that Margot says never existed before. It keeps getting better as we wipe out the remaining traces of NUSA, too. Peter estimates that over ninety percent of the former leaders have been killed or imprisoned, and he's working hard on the rest.

And between Tris and our leadership group, we've finalized the structure we want for the new government. We've even picked out a name: the United Citizens of America, or the UCA. I think it has a nice ring to it.

The next big step will be to hold elections, but that will take a while to arrange. Tris is optimistic, though, and she has Caleb working on organizing the voting structure and getting equipment in place. Of course, that might have something to do with her desire to finish her term in office. I can't blame her. She's worked harder over the last months than I've ever seen anyone manage, and she certainly deserves a break.

We all do, really. I know I'm thoroughly exhausted, too, and I can't say I'm excited to be back here for the fifth time, still trying to figure out the details for Chicago to be part of the UCA. My first trip was a disaster, with Evelyn and Tori at each other's throats the way they were when we were preparing for NUSA's attack. I wouldn't have returned the second time if Tris hadn't had such a strong sentimental attachment to this city.

But after three more trips, I _finally_ managed to work out an arrangement that both Evelyn and Tori were willing to accept, and the other city leaders quickly followed suit. I'm hopeful that this trip will be the last one we need to iron out the details.

I look around the small office that the leaders let me use whenever I'm here. It's in the Erudite headquarters, and part of me wonders if Douglas was ever in this room, before he transferred to Dauntless so many years ago. Before I met him.

My fingers find the ring that I wear around my neck – the one I slipped onto his finger at our wedding ceremony decades ago. It's a good thing I didn't have it with me when Tris and Tobias and the others left on their mission last year, or it would have been sold along with mine. I certainly don't regret giving them my ring – the money from it probably saved their lives – but I'm glad to have this one to comfort me on long days.

I know Douglas would be proud of what our grandchildren have accomplished, and touching this ring reminds me of that. Of him.

I jump at the sudden knock on the door. It's after dinner, and I can't imagine who would be here to see me this late in the day. Even Evelyn is generally long gone by now.

But I was Dauntless for far too long to hesitate. "Come in," I call.

Tobias Eaton enters the room. He's dressed in the mix of colors I've come to associate with his Kaizen faction – black pants with a gray and blue button-down shirt – and he looks serious, as I've always seen him.

"Tobias," I say in surprise. "What can I help you with?"

He pauses awkwardly just inside the door, standing so tall that his head almost hits the top of the door frame. But when I gesture to the guest chair, he doesn't take it. He's presumably nervous to be seeing me again, given that I'm Tris' grandmother.

"Please," I say with a smile, "have a seat." I feel bad about how things fell apart between him and my granddaughter, but I want him to know that I don't dislike him for it. With everything he did to help the rebels, and the citizens of NUSA, and those in Chicago, it's impossible to hold a grudge against him for leaving afterwards. Particularly when I know he only left because he was trying to protect Tris.

"Thanks," he says quietly, "but I'm fine standing." He shifts a little, uncertainly, before reaching into his pocket and removing something. He crosses my office in a single long step, extending his hand to me over the desk.

"I just need to give this back to you."

I don't know what to expect, but I hold my hand out automatically. Whatever I might have thought was coming, it certainly wasn't what he places gingerly on my palm.

I'm staring at the wedding ring Douglas gave me.

"But…" I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "But you sold this. Tris said you had to." I touch it lightly with my forefinger, tracing its smooth, familiar lines. It's definitely my ring.

"Yeah, we did," Tobias says. His voice is still soft – and more emotional than I can remember hearing it. "But I went back for it."

I look up slowly, meeting his gaze. Somehow, I never noticed before just how blue his eyes are.

"It didn't feel right to sell it," he adds, "so I found a way to retrieve it."

For a long moment, we just stare at each other. There's no doubt in my mind why he did this, but even though it wasn't for me, I'm grateful beyond words that he did it.

"Thank you," I murmur. He just nods, turning to go.

"Wait," I say quickly. "Can I at least pay you back for it?"

He shakes his head, turning toward me again. "No," he says firmly. Apparently, he's not a man of many words.

He rubs the back of his neck in silence for another second, not quite meeting my gaze. His voice is quieter when he adds, "But…someday, if Tris ever gets married, maybe you could give it to her?" His eyes are dark with emotion. "That seems like it would be right."

The words pull something from deep inside me – some answering devotion from my life with Douglas.

"That was always my intention," I tell him softly. "Natalie couldn't use it, since she lived in Abnegation, so I always planned to give it to Tris if she was in a position to wear it."

He nods. "Good."

"Tobias…." I hesitate, knowing that he probably wants to leave, to let his emotions out in a more private place. But I have to tell him….

"I'd be honored if you were the one to put it on her finger someday."

He doesn't answer, but I can see him swallow. After a moment, he turns away, presumably wanting to hide his reaction. He's halfway to the door when he stops for the second time.

"How is she?" he manages to ask, his voice rough with feeling.

It's a difficult question to answer. She's certainly not over him, which is undoubtedly what he's really asking. And it's obvious that he's not over her. But I don't know if he actually wants to hear that from me.

"She's all right," I finally say. "She spends a lot of time with me, and with Caleb, and working. I don't know if I'd call her happy, but it helps to have family around."

He nods, still with his back to me, before he leaves, pulling the door shut behind him. I stare after him for a long time, vaguely wondering if he'll return, before I move my gaze back to the ring in my hand. I turn it over and over, feeling every part of it and remembering so many moments with my husband, and my family.

"I love you, Douglas," I whisper before I lift the chain off my neck, opening the clasp and sliding my ring onto the necklace next to his. I can't wear it on my finger without causing Tris to ask about it, and for now, I'd rather not broach that subject. She needs more time to heal.

But I hold both rings together in my hand for a long while, feeling them pressed against each other for the first time in far too long. There's a small smile on my face as I put the necklace back on, letting the rings slip behind my shirt and against my heart. It's strange that such a little piece of metal could make me feel so complete again.

* * *

_**A/N: This obviously concludes the part of the story that revolves around getting the ring back. The next part follows Anna to Philadelphia and focuses on Tris. That part will have more action and will give you a chance to see how Tris grows during her time away from Tobias. After that, they'll finally get back together. As a reminder, though, this story interacts with my "Determinant" story, so their reunion is the one that's in that story. They don't get together before that, but I will definitely include multiple chapters after that reunion.**_

_**Anyway, please take a moment to review and let me know what you thought of this chapter. I'm in the middle of drafting some of the heavy action sequence, so I could use motivation to write quickly! :-)**_


	13. Chapter 13: Anna - Incident

****_A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is a day late. I had to write it along with the next three in order to iron out the flow of events properly. On the bright side, that means it won't be nearly as long before I post the next one._****

****_ As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I know I say this a lot, but I really, really appreciate your feedback and support. You always keep me going when it's hard to find time to write._****

****_Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time while I was trying to get it to work with the following ones. You're both fantastic!_****

* * *

**Chapter 13: Anna – Incident**

Tris is clearly delighted to see me. It's obvious from the worn expression on her face and the way she hugs me for an extra-long time that she's had a rough week and missed having her grandmother around. Perhaps it will help to deliver some good news.

"Chicago is officially part of the UCA," I tell her triumphantly.

"_Finally_," she breathes out in relief. "I was about to send Christina to knock some sense into Evelyn."

Judging by how she bites her lip, she immediately thinks better of the words. And it's no wonder, given how often Marcus apparently attempted to do exactly that.

"I didn't mean it that way," she says quickly.

"I know." I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Trust me, I understand. The negotiations were long and frustrating, and Evelyn was certainly _not_ a joy to work with. But in the end, she led the city leaders in the vote, and it was unanimous."

"With no other modifications to the deal?" Tris asks skeptically.

"None, thank God. I couldn't have handled a _sixth_ trip."

She chuckles, looking at me warmly. "Thank you again for doing that," she says after a moment. "It was important to me."

I nod in acknowledgement before admitting, "Actually, I'm glad you were so insistent on it. I would have given up earlier if you hadn't been, but it's much better that they'll be part of our country."

The words are true, but they seem to make her more thoughtful than happy. "I hope so," she murmurs, looking away as if she's debating adding something else.

For once, I have no idea what's going through her head. I consider asking, but instead I decide to give her some time. After a little while, she continues on her own.

"I've been thinking about moving back there," she comments, her voice careful. "After the new government is in place, and they don't need me anymore. It…would be nice, I think."

"I always assumed that you would," I respond, wondering what she isn't saying. She's hiding _something_ behind that tone.

"I probably will, too," I add, "though I'm not sure exactly where within the city. The bomb shelter is closed now, and the Dauntless compound would be rather hard to navigate at my age." My lips curve upwards at the admission. "Maybe I'll return to my roots and live in Abnegation."

An answering smile forms on her face – the type we both grew up seeing. Small, with no teeth showing. It makes me rethink my answer. I'm not sure I want to spend the rest of my life looking at nothing but a polite veneer.

"Personally," Tris says, her voice sounding nervous, "I was thinking of living in Christina's faction."

My eyebrow lifts on its own as I suddenly understand her hesitation. The last I knew, Christina lived in Tobias' Kaizen faction. So, she's basically admitting that she wants to be near him again.

Tris clears her throat before adding, "She's still my closest friend." The words are defensive.

For a moment, I just watch her, wondering how much I should push the conversation. It's been difficult for her to learn to open up, as it is for everyone who's raised in Abnegation, and it has often proven to be a good thing to nudge her into talking more.

But at the same time, she rarely wants to discuss her former boyfriend. It's obvious that she still thinks about him a lot, but the subject seems to be painful, and I don't want to make that worse.

"I think," I begin carefully, "that where you live is up to you. And if you choose the Kaizen faction, I'm sure that _all_ of its members would be delighted to have you there."

She looks away, biting her lip as if she doesn't quite believe me. Maybe this would be a good time to tell her about my conversation with Tobias, and about how he retrieved my ring. He clearly did it for her, after all.

But before I can decide, Caleb comes in the door, looking as exhausted as his sister.

"Nana!" he exclaims, plainly thrilled to see me, and the corners of my mouth tug upwards at the term. It's close to my name, and is a commonly used word for grandmother, so as we started to become close, he suggested using it for me. Tris was a little slower to adopt it, but I have to admit it's nice to have both of them calling me that now. It makes us more of a family.

Caleb steps over to me, hugging me as tightly as Tris did. It makes me wonder just what happened this week to have them both so tired and upset.

"Did you run into any trouble on your trip?" he asks in concern.

"No," I respond simply, "but it sounds like something is going on?" I move my gaze between the two of them. "Please enlighten me."

They exchange a glance before Caleb sighs. "There was an incident in Morgantown. One of the old NUSA families managed to get serum into the drinking water for the entire town and started broadcasting messages to them." His expression is sour.

"Fortunately," he continues, "the person they used to send the transmission wasn't…." He glances at Tris, who looks away uncomfortably, and he clears his throat. "Well, she wasn't nearly as good at it as Tobias, so it didn't work the way they wanted. But it resulted in a small riot, and twenty-three people were killed."

Tris looks up again, frowning as she says, "Peter and Lauren took a task force in there and captured what was left of the family, so they won't be a problem again. But we don't know how many others are still out there, and this just shows that they're getting bolder."

"Or more desperate," I comment. "As we get closer and closer to elections, they must know that their chances of restoring NUSA are vanishing."

"That's what I said," Caleb agrees, glancing at his sister again. "I think it's normal to see more activity now. It doesn't mean anything new is going wrong."

I turn my attention to Tris, too, studying her expression. She's obviously more worried than her brother, and it's easy to tell why.

"You still don't trust Peter, do you?"

"Can you blame me?" She rubs her hands up her cheeks in a frustrated motion. "For all we know, he's been lying in his status reports to make himself look better. It's the kind of thing he would do."

Caleb sighs. "That's not fair," he says softly. "I know Peter has done some awful things in the past, but there were valid reasons for giving him this position, and I still think it was the right thing to do." He rubs the back of his neck in a gesture that always reminds me of Tobias. "He's done a very good job."

"So you keep telling me," Tris states shortly, and I can't help wincing at the doubt in her tone. She forgave Caleb for his betrayal a long time ago, but there's a difference between forgiveness and trust. She still struggles with the latter.

But in this particular case, I agree with Caleb.

"Tris," I begin reassuringly, "I have personally talked with many of the people that Peter works with, including Lauren – who, as you say, was involved in this cleanup. And they've all told me that he's done a phenomenal job of tracking down the NUSA leaders and capturing them. I don't think we should doubt that just because of one incident – even if we _are_ talking about Peter."

Her eyes move to mine as she debates that, biting her lip uncertainly. She and I have a good relationship at this point, and I know she trusts my judgment as much as I trust hers, but her dislike of Peter runs deep. It's certainly understandable.

"Peter _has_ changed, you know," Caleb says, his voice almost pleading as he looks between me and his sister. In some ways, I think he feels like Tris won't fully trust him until she forgives Peter, too. "He'll never admit it, but Tobias' broadcast affected him…. Not as much as the rest of us, but some."

This time, there's no way to miss Tris' skepticism. "I don't see _him_ rubbing the back of his neck," she remarks somewhat caustically, "or biting his lip, or looking at me the way virtually everyone else does."

I can't help smiling a little at the comment. Caleb picked up _all_ of those habits from the broadcast…as did the vast majority of the population. It occurs to me that I should mention that.

"True enough," I say calmly. Caleb opens his mouth in protest, but I hold up a hand to stop him. "And that might or might not indicate much about Peter. But ultimately, it doesn't really matter. Because the fact that you see those mannerisms in _everyone else_ tells us all we need to know."

They both look at me as I continue. "It tells us that Tobias' message still affects them. And no matter how many transmissions the old NUSA families manage to get out there, they'll never be able to counter that. Not enough to pose a wide-scale danger." I shake my head. "His broadcast was simply too strong."

For a moment, they're silent, digesting that. Tris looks thoughtful as she says, "Peter might be able to do it."

I don't even have to think before I shake my head. "He has the _ability_, yes," I respond, "but there's a reason we never considered him for that part of the mission. He doesn't _feel_ deeply enough to put real emotion behind a message, and the broadcast draws its power from emotion. Peter could never override what Tobias sent."

I meet her eyes, making sure she knows how much I mean it as I emphasize that again. "_Never_."

And finally, she nods.

* * *

****_A/N: The next chapter starts a long action sequence. I'm going to try very hard to update twice a week throughout that sequence, so I don't keep you waiting too long. In the meantime, please take a moment to leave a review. Those always motivate me to post quickly! :-)_****


	14. Chapter 14: Tris - Recruiting

****_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I always appreciate your support more than I can say. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. You're truly fantastic!_****

* * *

**Chapter 14: Tris – Recruiting**

Sometimes it amazes me how much this country has changed since the first time I saw it. It took an incredible amount of work, and ideas from everyone on my council, to get things to where they are today, but I think we're all very glad to have played a part in this. I know I never expected to be able to do something so worthwhile with my life.

I guess that's why I'm still afraid that we'll lose it all. That things will turn around as quickly as they did in Chicago, when Jeanine destroyed decades of peace for her own personal gain. It's all too easy to imagine some of the former NUSA families finding a way to do the same thing here, no matter how much progress Peter reports.

Still, I know we can't let that risk stop us. We have to keep moving forward.

Currently, that means finding candidates to run in the elections we'll be holding next month. I didn't expect that to be hard, since people are so anxious to help any way they can these days. But it seems that after a lifetime of being told by NUSA to mind their place, most people don't believe they're qualified to lead the government.

Margot has been struggling for the last six weeks to recruit candidates, so I'm not overly surprised when she asks me to give speeches in certain parts of the country where she's had no luck. She thinks that people will listen to me even if they don't believe her, and she's probably right about that. As Anna pointed out, they're still strongly affected by Tobias' broadcast.

So, for the first time since I took office, I find myself traveling around the country. It's an enjoyable change of pace, after spending so much time in meetings lately.

Nigel and Michelle come with me, of course, serving as my bodyguards the way they always do when I'm out in public. I find it unnecessary, personally, since I'm certainly not helpless – and since it's hard to imagine anyone trying to hurt me after Tobias' transmission. He made the entire population love me too much for that.

But I don't argue. They need the jobs, and it makes Anna feel better to have them with me.

Caleb comes too, claiming it will give him a chance to ensure everything is prepared for the elections. But I suspect he's still nervous about what happened in Morgantown and wants to make sure I stay safe. I can't decide if I should be annoyed by that or not. It seems hypocritical, with how much he's told me I shouldn't worry about that incident, but at the same time…it's nice to have my brother care about me again.

The first speech is in Stafford. The weather is even hotter than in Philadelphia, and sweat is dripping into my eyes by the time I finish. I try to describe what the different elected positions will be like, and what traits are needed for each one, and I encourage the audience to come to a follow-up session if they're willing to consider any of those jobs.

It seems to work, since more than a dozen people show up for the second session, and out of those, we end up with enough candidates for the area.

We follow the same model in Durham, Greensboro, Roanoke, and Harrisonburg, growing progressively wearier with each repetition. But even though it's tiring to be on the road, sleeping in a different place every night, there's something refreshing about seeing the excitement grow in each audience's eyes. They believe me when I tell them they can do this type of job – that they're worthy of it – and the Abnegation in me loves seeing that transition.

The drive to Greensburg is long, and we have to navigate some rough highways to get there. I haven't endured such a bumpy ride since our trip from the bomb shelter to Pittsburgh so long ago. It makes me think of Tobias, but that's hardly unusual. He passes through my thoughts a dozen times a day, between my own memories and all the reminders there are of him in the population.

But I brush the thoughts away, as I typically try to do. He made his choice when he left, and we both have to live with that. Even if it will always be hard.

We stay in a red brick building that's unlike any I've ever seen before, with a clock tower and arches and a strange sprawling design. It's pretty, in its own unique way, and I find myself wanting to take a walk after dinner, just to see the area.

Caleb comes with me, as he often does, and when Nigel and Michelle insist on following us, my private little walk turns into a party of four. But it doesn't really bother me. My bodyguards will remain just far enough away to give us privacy, and Caleb's presence might at least take my mind off my former boyfriend.

We follow the train tracks that run nearby, walking through a mix of wooded areas and low buildings. It looks nothing like Chicago, or Philadelphia for that matter.

"I wonder what it would be like to live in a place like this," I comment idly as I kick a pebble away from the train tracks. "Somewhere this small."

Caleb shrugs, his lips pursed thoughtfully. "Population-wise, Chicago is much closer to this place than it is to Philadelphia." The comparison startles me. "Though obviously Chicago used to have a larger population than it currently does, or it wouldn't have so many skyscrapers."

I nod, but it's difficult to imagine the city we grew up in ever being as crowded as Philadelphia, or filled with buildings as short as this town's.

"Do you think you'll move back there, once the new government has been elected?" I ask curiously.

Caleb considers that for a moment. "Yes, I suppose so," he finally answers. "I've stayed in touch with two of my friends from initiation. It would be good to see them again."

A vague feeling of unease spreads through me at that admission. I know that not everyone in Erudite was evil – or even supported Jeanine – but given what Caleb did to me while he was there, it's hard to be comfortable with the idea of him talking with those friends.

He apparently notices my discomfort. "Don't worry," he says softly. "They were my friends _before_ Jeanine drugged me. They didn't like what she made me do."

I don't answer.

Sighing, Caleb adds, "I imagine it's a little like how Dauntless was. By the time we were initiates, Erudite had wandered from its ideals. Its leaders took it in the wrong direction, even before Jeanine, though she obviously made things a lot worse." He gives me a sad look. "But there was a good basis to the faction once, and I caught glimpses of that when I was there."

The words hit home. I remember feeling as if I lived in two versions of Dauntless at the same time: the one that believed in ordinary acts of bravery and celebrated freedom, and the one that forced initiates to beat each other and promoted savagery. It's easy to imagine the same kind of divide within Erudite.

"My friends say it's very different now," Caleb continues. "More like its old values. I'd be interested in seeing that."

For some reason, my aptitude test from so long ago comes to mind, and I remember that I had as much of an affinity for Erudite as my brother. Maybe, if that faction weren't so deeply associated with horror in my mind, I'd consider living there, too. But as it is, I know I never will.

We're interrupted by the sound of a loud horn bellowing through the air, and I glance up to see a freight train approaching.

"That's the same line we took from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia last year," Caleb comments, raising his voice to make himself heard over the rumbling that is fast approaching.

I watch for a long moment, remembering that ride. It's associated with Marcus and death and pain, but what really stands out the most is the way Tobias attacked his father for hurting me. It was as if something deep inside him finally snapped, and he couldn't tolerate the man who abused him any longer. I shouldn't be surprised that I was his breaking point.

Stepping away from the train tracks, I sigh deeply, frustrated with the memory – and with myself. I should _never_ have allowed Marcus to come on that trip with us. It put far too much strain on Tobias, and ultimately, that's why we're no longer together.

But it's impossible to know how things would have gone if he hadn't been there. The reality is that Tobias delivered exactly the message this country needed to hear, and he probably wouldn't have done that if he hadn't felt so guilty for hitting me. And _I_ certainly wouldn't have sent that message if I'd been the one to give the broadcast.

Turning back to the building where we're staying, I sigh again. However much I may hate it personally, maybe things turned out just the way they should have.

* * *

It's early afternoon when we walk to where I'll be giving my speech, on the steps in front of a beautiful old gray stone building. The street has already been cordoned off by security forces in order to keep cars out, and I watch as the audience gathers, filling the road in front of me and stretching off to the sides. It's a good-sized crowd.

As my eyes scan them, I pause on someone familiar dressed in a police uniform. It takes me a second to process who she is. _Lauren._ Margot must have brought in extra security from Pittsburgh for my speech. I suppose that makes sense, given how close we are to Morgantown, where the riot occurred just a few weeks ago.

That incident still bothers me, despite Anna and Caleb's reassurances. We've been working for eight months to eradicate all the serum and broadcasting equipment that NUSA had, and to capture the former leaders and their allies. We shouldn't have missed an operation of that size.

But I don't let it distract me. Instead, I listen as Margot introduces me, as she's done every time so far, and then I begin talking into the microphone. The speech has become routine by now, and I pause automatically at all the right points to let the audience absorb what I'm saying. They're even kind enough to laugh at the few jokes I include, though I know they're not very funny. I still struggle with humor.

I'm at the point of describing the follow-up session when the noise stops me. It's been eight months since I've heard gunshots, but it's impossible not to recognize the sound. It drills into every nerve in my body, causing adrenaline to surge though me instantly.

The crowd screams in a mixture of panic and confusion as they begin simultaneously running toward safety and seeking to protect each other. Through the milling forms, I see the security guards scanning the area rapidly, looking for the shooter. I have a slight height advantage from my position on the stone steps, and for a moment, I stand still, using it to search as well.

Caleb literally knocks the thought away when he crashes into me. He pushes me roughly behind a large pillar and down to the stone landing, covering me with his body to keep me safe. Around him, I can just make out the forms of Nigel and Michelle standing between us and the threat, their guns drawn and their bodies tense.

My heart is racing, and all I can think is that Caleb is guarding me the way Tobias did in the Candor headquarters so long ago. But this time, I'm not incapacitated with fear.

"Everyone, drop to the ground!" I shout through the microphone that I'm still wearing. There's no guarantee that approach will keep them safe, but it's got to be better than trampling each other. And it should make it easier for the police to spot the shooter.

Perhaps it works, because another volley of shots rings out. This time, there are clearly multiple guns involved. I wince when I hear my bodyguards firing, their weapons close enough to blast through my eardrums.

"Get them inside!" Michelle shouts, and suddenly Nigel is pulling Caleb off me and shoving him toward the building.

I begin to rise, too, but Nigel stops me for a second, his fingers finding the microphone that I'm still wearing, yanking it from me, and throwing it hard away from us. The screech of feedback splits the air, painfully loud.

"Don't want the shooter to know where you go," he explains shortly as he pushes me after my brother, following closely behind and using his body to shield me.

It's difficult not to resist. It goes against all my instincts from both Dauntless and Abnegation to leave these people behind, in danger, while I run for my life. But at the same time, I'm undoubtedly the target, and that means that my presence is probably just increasing their risk.

So, I force myself to move toward the doors, staying low and dodging from side to side to make it harder to shoot me. Nigel sticks with me, still shielding me, while Michelle covers our escape.

I hear her cry of pain as we enter the building, but when I try to turn to see what happened, Nigel just shoves me forward, using his body to block my view – and undoubtedly any bullets that might follow me.

"We have to help her," I start, panicked, but Nigel doesn't even pause.

"No," he says firmly, his voice the most commanding I've ever heard it. "Our job is to keep you safe. _You_ don't stop for _us_!"

The words rankle, but by now Caleb is pulling at me from the front while Nigel pushes me from behind, and there's no choice but to keep moving.

We make our way into the large lobby of the building, our footsteps echoing off the dark marble tile that covers the floor and walls. It's probably a government building, judging by the handful of sleeping areas that are set up for homeless people to use, but it looks to be deserted right now. Something about it bothers me.

Nigel stops, his large hand on my shoulder forcing me to stop with him, as he surveys the room quickly. His other hand is extended, with his gun ready to fire, while he checks to make sure the path ahead is clear.

Apparently, he decides there's more risk from ahead than behind right now, because he gives a tense, "Follow me," before taking the lead. Before I can respond, Caleb switches positions with him, guarding my back as he places a hand on my shoulder to keep me moving. It makes me want to scream with frustration, being sandwiched between them as if I'm a helpless child, but I hold my tongue. If I resist, it will just slow us all down, and that will only increase their danger.

So, I continue forward. Something is still nagging at me – some thought trying to find its way forward through the rush of events. But I don't know what it is, and there's no time to stop and figure it out.

We're halfway across the lobby when two men rush into the room from a hallway on the left. It's difficult to see them around Nigel's large frame, but I can tell that they're wearing the same type of uniform as Lauren – and that they're holding guns out in front of them as they race forward, looking around rapidly.

They slide to a halt in front of us, aiming their guns at Nigel while he aims at them as they all assess the situation.

"Pittsburgh PD," one of them says abruptly, apparently identifying himself. His gaze roams our group, pausing when he catches a glimpse of me peering out from behind Nigel. His eyes widen.

"Go down the way we came," he says quickly, jerking his head to the hallway they just emerged from. "There's a room there where she'll be safe."

Nigel stares for another second before nodding slowly. He moves forward hesitantly while the other two move just as uncertainly around him toward the doors. It's a strange dance of distrust.

Caleb pushes me forward, following after Nigel toward the hallway the others indicated, but I turn my head, looking after the Pittsburgh officers. I can still hear shouting and gunfire leaking into the building from outside, and the sound churns through my mind.

It solidifies the thought that has been nagging at me.

There is too much gunfire for this to be a single shooter. And if there are multiple attackers, it would make no sense for them to _all_ be outside, not when they knew I'd be standing in front of a building that I could retreat into. It's much more likely that their goal was to drive me in here, where they must have allies waiting….

"Stop," I say urgently, but the gunshot echoes so loudly through the room that I'm sure no one hears my voice.

Nigel's head whips forward, specks of blood flying through the air around him as he crashes to the floor, face-first, making no attempt to catch himself. I know he's gone even before I see the dark liquid spreading through his hair, but for a moment, time freezes, and all I can do is stare at him. _At the body of yet another person who died for me._

Caleb is turning toward the men who just passed us, his arms out as he tries to shield me behind him. Under his right arm, I can see that they're only a few feet away, and they're both pointing their guns directly at him.

One of them smiles, a vicious grin that reminds me far too much of Eric. His eyes find mine as he says, "Do exactly as you're told, or your brother dies, too."

* * *

****_A/N: Sorry about the cliffhanger. As I mentioned before, I'm going to try very hard to update twice a week throughout the current action sequence, so I don't keep you waiting too long. In the meantime, please take a moment to leave a review. Those always motivate me to post quickly! :-)_****


	15. Chapter 15: Tris - Treatened

******_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really, really appreciate your support. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. You're amazing!_******

**Chapter 15: Tris – Threatened**

It has been a very long time since my simulations in Dauntless, but they come rushing back at this moment – at the sight of the guns aimed at Caleb's head. He freezes in terror, but he holds his position, still trying to shield me behind him, and I'm reminded of the selflessness he showed in my worst fear. The one where I had to shoot my family.

"Don't listen to them, Beatrice," he says hoarsely, as if the words are catching in his throat. "Just run, and don't look back."

But I already know I can't do that. Even without Nigel bleeding on the floor next to us, I know that I can't let my brother die for me, the way our parents did. I just can't.

"No," I tell him simply. Grabbing his arm, I hold him in place as I step beside him to face our attackers.

"We surrender," I say tensely.

* * *

They clearly planned this well. Our captors march us through the building to a large, windowless room where three others wait. There, they force us to change into new clothes, pulling wigs over our hair to make it even harder to recognize us.

"If either of you gets noticed, you both die," one of them states clearly, looking at each of us in turn to make sure we understand. Caleb hesitates only briefly before nodding, and I know he won't try anything. He may be willing to sacrifice himself to save me, but he doesn't want to get me killed any more than I want to do that to him.

So, we walk quietly with them out the back door of the building and onto the street. There's a gun aimed at each of us at all times – and kept hidden from everyone else – as we walk down the streets of this small city. I pay close attention to our route, hoping we have the chance to reverse it at some point.

Most of the time, we move with others who are fleeing from the shooting, but sometimes we find ourselves alone. Twice, someone in a security uniform passes nearby, clearly looking for us, but I don't dare to call out or even meet their eyes.

After five minutes or so, our captors lead us into an apartment building. It's much quieter than I've come to expect from Philadelphia, and I have to wonder if we're the only ones here.

They shuffle us through the empty hallways and up three flights of stairs, our footsteps echoing slightly in the silence, before unlocking a door and shoving us into the room beyond.

We're in a large open space that's filled with a variety of equipment. A computer sits in the middle, attached to an all-too-familiar apparatus, and on the outskirts of the room, large satellite dishes face toward the outer walls. It's a broadcasting setup.

A cold feeling sinks all the way through my stomach as I understand why they wanted to take us alive. They plan to have me broadcast a message of their choice, and they'll make me cooperate by threatening Caleb, as they've been doing so far.

I should have seen this coming. Anna was right that they don't have anyone powerful enough to counter Tobias' broadcast. _Except me._ I'm the only way they can regain their power.

"You know where they go," a man says gruffly, and my eyes focus instantly on him. He's older than the ones who captured us, and heavy-set, with gray hair that sits close to his head around a large bald spot. Everything about him says that he's used to being obeyed.

And the others in the room do exactly that. The hands grasping us haul us to two separate chairs that are facing each other. Both are built of solid wood – far too sturdy to break – and are covered with metal restraints. A quick glance at their feet shows that they're also bolted to the floor. Once we're in these chairs, we won't be able to escape on our own.

The thought makes me fight back, and it apparently has the same effect on Caleb. But we no sooner start thrashing than a woman near Caleb takes a knife and slashes it across his face. I freeze as blood starts flowing freely from the wound.

She takes a step toward me next, but Caleb has already stopped fighting.

"Don't!" he calls, panicked. "Don't hurt her! I won't resist anymore." But the woman just laughs.

"Too late," she snarls, moving closer to me, clearly intending to punish me for Caleb's behavior the same way she just punished him for mine. But I don't resist, knowing that it would just cause my brother more pain. Instead, I lock my gaze with hers, making it clear that I'm not afraid of her. It's probably a lie.

The older man speaks just before she can swipe me with the blade. "Leave her for now, Meghan." The woman stops instantly.

I should be relieved by the reprieve, but instead it makes my heart sink even more. It tells me that they want to keep me in good shape so they can use me. It's Caleb that they'll hurt, over and over until I cooperate. And I don't know how to withstand that.

But neither of us fights as they strap us into the chairs.

"_Madam President_," the older man sneers, looking me straight in the face once he knows I'm helpless. "You stole something from me. And now you're going to help me get it back."

A cruel smile forms on his face as he makes a gesture to the man who reminded me of Eric earlier. "Sam," he says simply.

Sam makes no direct response, but he turns toward Caleb without hesitation and drives a fist deep into his stomach. For a full second, Caleb sits rigidly upright, every part of him seemingly frozen, and then he sags against his restraints, a low groan coming from him as his face twists in agony.

It's almost impossible not to react, but I force myself to stay expressionless. _They won't kill Caleb_, I tell myself. They need him alive to try to make me cooperate. And that means that they can't hurt him too badly – not enough to really risk his life.

_I hope._

But that doesn't make it any easier to watch as Sam slams his fist into my brother over and over, smashing his stomach and ribs and face. I don't lose my willpower until his fingers jab into Caleb's throat, causing him to cough and choke violently. Blood sputters from his mouth, and suddenly I can't take this anymore.

"Stop it!" I yell. "Stop! At least tell me what you want."

"Oh, I'm sure you know that already," the older man says softly. It's a dangerous kind of soft. "A _smart_ girl like you…."

He gestures to Sam again, and I scream helplessly as he pounds another punch into my brother, who's still struggling to breathe. This one sounds like it broke a rib.

"The thing you need to understand, _Tris_," our tormentor says, "is that _he_ will be punished for every second you delay, and for _every little thing_ you do wrong." He gestures around the room and adds, "And we have all kinds of ways of punishing him."

To accentuate the point, Sam yanks a handful of hair from Caleb's head, sending the wig they put on him earlier flying across the room as he pulls the real hairs out by their roots. My brother has been incredibly stoic through all of this, but he screams in pain now. The sound tears through me.

"Don't," I gasp desperately, trying to think of some way to stop them. "Don't do this."

The whole situation seems utterly hopeless. We can't get out of here by ourselves, and right now it feels like no one will ever find us. All I can do is try to buy time.

"Just…please…tell me what you want," I plead again. "I can get you ransom money if that's it." It's a foolish offer, since I know it's not even remotely what they're seeking, but part of me hopes that if I act ignorant, they'll stop torturing Caleb while they explain.

It doesn't work. "Wrong answer!" the older man snaps.

With a grin that makes Eric look like a Saint, the man gestures to Meghan. She smiles back the same way as she pulls a piece of equipment closer to my brother. It's large, with wires and connectors hanging from it and dials covering its control panel. I don't want to think about what it does.

She takes her time connecting Caleb to it, clearly enjoying every second of the process. He tries not to react, but I can see his eyes roaming over it fearfully. He must figure out what it is, because he can't quite suppress a whimper. It cuts through my heart.

"No," I plead again. "Don't do this," but she never pauses.

When she finishes connecting my brother, she turns to the older man. "Mr. Larimer?" she asks calmly. He nods.

With a malicious smile, she flicks a switch, and then Caleb is writhing and screaming in pain as a buzzing sound of some type fills the room. _Electricity_, I realize with a sense of horror. They're electrocuting him.

"Stop!" I shout in wild desperation, unable to look away and unable to even _think_ in the face of my brother's agony. "Just stop!"

I now understand why Tobias revealed the locations of the factionless safe-houses when I was being tortured in Erudite. He didn't have any more choice than I do.

"Tell me what message you want me to send!"

Mr. Larimer snaps his fingers, and the woman turns the machine off. Caleb slouches in his seat, not moving, and for one terrified moment, I think he's dead. But then he lifts his head enough to stare at me, silently begging me not to give in. _I don't know what else to do._

Closing my eyes, I turn away from him, toward Mr. Larimer.

Our tormentor smiles again. "It's very simple, really," he says smoothly. "You will transmit a message stating that you are resigning immediately, and that the new president will be me." His grin widens. "Brian Larimer."

"You will transfer _all_ power to me and will tell everyone to obey me without question."

"And then?" I'm surprised I'm able to ask that question.

Brian arches an eyebrow at me. "And then," he answers calmly, "you will do the same thing again in every town and city around the country."

Despite everything, the answer is strangely reassuring. If he needs me to repeat the message that many times, his current broadcasting setup must have a very limited range. And that means that if I do this, I'll only be affecting a small population – one that Brian will undoubtedly want to keep alive to help him get everything set up in the next town. And he'll keep Caleb alive, too, to ensure my continued cooperation.

The whole thing is incredibly risky, but I cling to the hope that no one else will die if I do this. And every broadcast I give increases the odds that Peter will hear it. I still don't know if I can truly trust him, but he's the only real chance I have at this point. He'll be able to track the message back to me the way Tobias and I did to find Dan Miter back in Philadelphia.

And maybe, just maybe, he'll do the right thing in response.

"Okay." I hate the defeat in my voice.

* * *

I don't try to fight as they connect me to the broadcasting equipment. It wouldn't do any good, and I can't cause Caleb even more pain.

"You'll do some test runs as well as the real message," Brian tells me clearly. "You won't know which is which, but I'll be able to hear what you say each time. If you do _anything_ wrong at all…." His smile is pure evil. "You know what happens to _him_."

I nod, unable to speak. But my eyes drift over Brian's helpers, particularly the two who have been torturing Caleb. As loyal as they are to Brian, they must be under the influence of serum and transmissions, yet they clearly weren't affected by Tobias' broadcast. Why not?

But there's no time to dwell on the question. Instead, I focus on exactly how I'm going to do this.

Anna's words seem to be stuck in my mind – that the emotions behind a message control how effective it is. In this case, I want the message to _look_ like I'm cooperating, without really working. Can I do that by projecting the wrong emotions to go with it? Or would it be better to avoid all emotions? And can I do that right now, with all the fear and anger I'm feeling?

I also think about how I was able to follow the signal back to the person doing the broadcast, and to see thoughts that they weren't actually sending. With both Dan Miter and Tobias, I could tell where they were located, and what their "next" level of thought was. If I can control that layer well, I can make sure that Peter – or anyone else resistant enough – can find me, without my captors knowing that I'm sending anything extra.

Brian signals that it's time to start, and I take a deep breath, calming myself the way I did in my fear landscape at Dauntless. There's no room for error here, even though the first time is probably a practice run.

Very carefully, I transmit exactly the message that Brian gave me. Until the moment I begin, I'm uncertain whether to include the wrong emotions or none at all, but at the last second, I decide to go with as little feeling as possible. Tobias included a wide range in his broadcast, after all, and the entire thing seemed to work very strongly. So, it seems safest to assume that _any_ emotion could potentially make Brian's message more effective.

It's trickier to control the next layer of thought, but I keep it separate from the words, layering it above them as images showing the streets we walked on to get here, and the torture inflicted on Caleb. It's exhausting, but by the time I'm done, I'm hopeful that it worked.

"You're lucky that was a practice run," Brian snarls after I finish. "If you try that in the real thing, he'll fry until his hair is singed."

My heart races, but I keep my expression as blank as possible. "What do you mean?" I ask, trying to sound both desperate and innocent at the same time. There's a chance he's bluffing. "I sent the exact message you wanted."

He smirks, holding his hand up toward Meghan, who's waiting to electrocute my brother again.

"No!" I yell. "I kept my side of the bargain! I'm not going to do it again if you're just going to hurt him anyway."

For a long moment, we hold each other's gaze, before I add, "If you want me to do anything different, tell me what. But I won't cooperate if you don't keep your word."

I can see the hesitation in Brian's eyes, and suddenly I _know_ that he was bluffing. He can't hear the second layer of thought at all, and he probably can't judge how effective a broadcast is, since I'm sure he doesn't have any serum in his system. He simply guessed that I'd try to do _something_, and he's hoping to scare me into not doing it.

But now he's not so sure.

"We'll try it again," he finally snaps, sounding vaguely frightened. I manage not to let any triumph show in my expression. He's just realized that he can't control me. Not completely, anyway. _Not enough._

So, we repeat the process, again and again for a total of eleven times. It's far more tiring than I would have thought, but I'm careful to send the message exactly the same way every time. There's no way of knowing which one is the real one.

After the eleventh pass, they detach me from the equipment and put me back in the other chair, restraining me just as thoroughly as before. But at least they don't hurt Caleb again. Apparently, I was convincing enough for now.

Brian looks tense as he orders Sam and Meghan to watch us. He then takes the others with him and leaves, presumably to see if the townspeople are now willing to follow him. I don't know what result I hope he finds.

****_A/N: So, maybe it's not quite as much of a cliffhanger as the last chapter? Anyway, as I mentioned before, I'm trying very hard to update twice a week throughout the current action sequence, so I don't keep you waiting too long. In the meantime, please take a moment to leave a review. Those always motivate me to post quickly! :-)_****


	16. Chapter 16: Micky - Reaction

********_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I truly appreciate your support. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. You're both wonderful!_********

**Chapter 16: Micky – Reaction**

My heart hammers in panic when the warning signal sounds – the indication that a broadcast is coming. We haven't had one since Tobias' message freed us, and it's _not_ good that they're starting again.

But I turn toward it with everyone else, a lifetime of habits kicking in automatically. It's always meant death for someone to figure out I'm resistant, so I hide it without thought.

When the actual message starts, I know immediately that it's the president. We've been searching for her for hours, with no luck at all, and now it's obvious why. She's been kidnapped, and she's being forced to send this. I wonder how they're making her do it.

I listen to the message itself, but as I always have, I look beyond that too. And right there, clearly laid out for me, is everything Tris _wants_ us to know. Apparently, she's as clever as Tobias said.

Within seconds, I know exactly where she is, and how many guards are keeping her and her brother prisoner, and how they're disguised. And that they're torturing Caleb to make Tris cooperate. The thoughts are amazingly detailed, but I know from experience that most people won't be able to hear them – they'll only receive the main message.

It's going to be tricky to rescue Tris, particularly since I don't know how much of the police force I can trust after this, but I don't even consider not doing it. There's no way I will return to the NUSA days.

When the transmission finishes, I can see the confusion on the faces around me. It's the same uncertainty I saw in Morgantown, when we cleaned up after the ineffective broadcast there. People aren't sure whether to follow what Tris just told them or stick to what Tobias taught them eight months ago.

It makes me wonder if Tris deliberately flubbed the message or if Tobias is really that much better at it. But judging by how detailed the secondary message was, she did this intentionally. _Good for her._ It gives us a chance to fight back.

My first step is to find Mary, since I know my sister is as resistant as I am. I can count on her even if I don't know who else to trust.

She's looking for me, too, of course, and we don't even exchange greetings before we start walking together. We've spent our whole lives communicating wordlessly about the broadcasts.

"We need to find Lauren," she tells me quietly, and I nod. We learned in Morgantown that she was never injected with a receiver, which means she won't have heard the message at all. There's a risk that the crowd turned on her afterwards because of that, but if so, we'd better rescue her first. We'll need her help to get Tris.

It doesn't take long for fighting to break out, with the majority of the town wanting to follow their new directions while some don't. Odds are it will turn bloody soon, but we ignore it for now. The broadcast wasn't strong enough to change these people permanently, so if we can rescue Tris and prevent any more transmissions, the town is likely to return to normal after a while. That's what happened in Morgantown.

As it turns out, Lauren finds us. Her expression is guarded as she approaches.

"I was searching a building," she murmurs so quietly we have to lean close to hear. It's a good precaution, even though no one else is nearby at the moment. "I gather something happened while I was in there."

Mary nods, keeping her voice just as low when she answers. "Same thing as in Morgantown, except…it was _her_." Lauren's eyes widen. "She resigned and appointed Brian Larimer as the new president."

For a moment, we're all silent while Lauren digests that. Then, I whisper, "They're torturing her brother. I know where they are, but there are eight people holding them. We'll need help."

Lauren bites her lip, thinking about that. It's definitely a problem. We can't trust anyone else around here, and I don't know if we can contact anyone from outside the area. Even if we can, there probably isn't time to wait. Not without risking Tris' life – and her brother's, I suppose. I glance at Mary, thinking about how far I'd go to save her if I was in Tris' position, and I know we need to try very hard to rescue both of them.

"I think…" Lauren says slowly, "that we need to arrest some people."

Mary's eyes light up, and she sounds excited as she agrees. "Yes, we should arrest everyone who's against the new president."

It takes me a second to catch up, but then I get it. There's a chance we can trust those people – at least better than anyone else – so it makes sense to gather them together. Plus, if there's no visible opposition left to Brian Larimer when we're done, he's more likely to think that Tris' broadcast worked. And that might buy us time to rescue her.

"Good idea," I mutter with a grin.

* * *

It takes the better part of an hour to round up everyone who opposes Brian Larimer. A number of them fight back as we arrest them, and it's difficult to get myself to be harsh enough with them to take them into custody. But we collect them slowly, one by one.

The worst part is when we go after the other security guards. Those of us from Pittsburgh didn't get here until a few hours before Tris' speech, so most of the group didn't get enough serum to fall for the broadcast. On the bright side, that means we'll have enough people to mount a good rescue operation, but it's a mess in the meantime.

"Come on, Micky," Jeremy insists loudly. "You know this is just like Morgantown. We have to resist it."

"I don't know any such thing," I respond just as loudly, keeping my face the same combination of sternness and blankness that I associate with being brainwashed. "What I know is that Brian Larimer is now our president, and we owe him our full loyalty."

But as Jeremy moves his gun to aim it squarely at me, I hold his gaze fiercely, willing him to understand. And then I blink slowly, three times in a row. It's not enough to attract anyone else's attention, but it's clearly a signal, and it makes him hesitate.

"I don't want to shoot you, Jeremy," I tell him calmly, still locking my eyes with his. "I want us to be on the same side, but for that to happen, you need to listen to me, and to the message our former president sent. Can you do that?"

He swallows, staring back at me as I blink again, three more slow times. He must get it then, because he lowers his gun, his face twisting in distaste as he lets me take it. I grab him by the arm, and the moment that grip is hidden from view, I squeeze three times, repeating my signal. He relaxes very slightly, though to his credit he keeps up a good act, arguing and seeming to resist as I push him to one of the two rooms we're using as our makeshift "prison."

It's the one with the other police officers we can trust. The one where we'll be planning the rescue mission, and as I shove him in the door, I whisper a single line in his ear. I've been doing that with everyone I put in there – a different line for each – so that collectively they know where Tris is and how she's being held. I figure it gives them a head-start on planning while we finish our "arrests."

Lauren is apparently glad of it when she and I finally go in there to "interrogate" our prisoners. Mary guards the door to make sure we're not overheard. And together, we come up with a plan.

****_A/N: To answer a review from a while back, now you know why I provided so much detail on Micky earlier. :-)_****

****_As I've mentioned before, I'm trying very hard to update at least twice a week throughout the current action sequence, so the next update should be posted by Wednesday (maybe sooner). In the meantime, please take a moment to leave a review. Those always motivate me to post quickly, and they have the added benefit of really making my day!  
_****


	17. Chapter 17: Tris - Six

**********_********_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I truly appreciate your support. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. You're both wonderful!_******** This is a very long chapter, so enjoy..._**********

**Chapter 17: Tris – Six**

I watch Caleb while we wait, anxious to make sure he's okay. But I know he's not – it's impossible to go through that kind of torture and be fine afterwards.

He sits still, his body sagging as much as possible within his restraints, and I can't tell if he's conscious or not. He's alive, though. That much, at least, is obvious by the way his ragged breathing seems to fill the quiet room.

Memories keep flashing through my mind, starting with the last time my brother and I were prisoners together – when NUSA captured us both during our mission. He wanted me to kill him then, to keep him from being brainwashed by the serum and betraying me, but I couldn't do it. Fortunately, Tobias' broadcast freed us before Caleb's fears had a chance to come true.

I saw my brother in a very different context when I was imprisoned in Erudite. He was one of my tormentors then, causing me pain that isn't too different from what he's faced today. But as I learned later, he also helped me escape. He and Tobias and_ Peter._ I suppose that's why he's still inclined to trust Peter these days.

The last time I was captured before that was with Tobias, during the attack on Abnegation. My mother saved me then, rescuing me from the tank of water I was drowning in. Caleb watched as my father stitched up my wounds.

And before that, I was dragged to Jeanine for questioning when I ran away from Dauntless to talk to Caleb. Tobias rescued me from Eric's wrath afterwards.

I never thought about it before, but Caleb and Tobias are associated with every memory I have of being in a situation like this. Even when I helped Marcus invade Erudite to retrieve Amanda Ritter's video, Caleb was there, trying to stop us – and Tobias got me out of there in the chaos after he played the video.

With the memories comes a realization. As many times as I've been a prisoner, I have never had to escape on my own.

That must explain why part of me expects Tobias to show up today, helping me the way he always has before. But the logical part of my brain knows that won't happen. And that same part says it would be foolish to just wait, broadcasting message after message in the hope that Peter will eventually find me – and do the right thing.

No, I need to find another way to get us out of here.

So, I let my eyes roam the room, looking for anything I can use to my advantage. The opportunities are certainly limited while we're restrained in these chairs, but at some point, our captors will have to move us to another town. And even before that, they'll probably feed us. And let us use the bathroom.

And of course, they'll have me do broadcasts….

My gaze turns to that equipment as I wonder again why Brian's lackeys are so loyal to him. They _must_ have been manipulated by serum and messages – it's obvious in everything about their expressions and their instant, mindless obedience. So, that means one of three things: Tobias' message didn't affect them; or Brian found a way to overcome the effects of it; or they didn't hear it at all.

The first two options seem incredibly unlikely, but something clicks into place when I think of the third. Brian kept changing a knob on the equipment in between each message that he had me broadcast. My eyes find that knob, and I stare at the markings on it – increments of some sort with little notations above some of them.

_And I understand._ It must control the frequency of the broadcast signal – the channel it uses. And I bet that NUSA's influential families used different channels than the government, so they could project special messages to their staff. They must also have injected different receivers into their staff – or somehow reprogrammed the existing receivers to pick up their channel instead of the official one. The latter option seems more likely, since anyone they hired would have already been injected with the government's receiver as a baby, and they would have needed to disable that.

It's difficult not to smile with my new realization. It doesn't give me an immediate way out of danger, but it does give me the start of a plan. Somehow, I need to change that switch to the right setting while I'm doing a broadcast. That will allow me to transmit a message to Brian's lackeys to override their brainwashing. _The same way Tobias did for the rest of the population._

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and I go rigid with dread. Across from me, I see the same reaction in Caleb as he lifts his head, staring at the door in terror.

One of the women who left earlier enters the room, looking somewhat triumphant. My broadcast must have worked well enough to satisfy them for now. I'm not sure if that's good or bad under the circumstances.

"_President_ Larimer," she says with a grin, "will be a while longer. In the meantime, you're to feed these two and let them use the facilities."

Sam just nods at her, but apparently it's enough of a reaction, because she leaves again without further comment.

Looking between me and Caleb, Sam states coldly, "You'll go one at a time, with the same rules as before. If either of you tries anything, we hurt the other. Understand?"

Given the way he snarls the last word, we don't dare say anything other than, "Yes."

* * *

They feed me first, freeing my hands but keeping my other restraints in place. It's difficult to choke the food down while looking at Caleb in his seat across from me, but I know I'll need to keep my strength up.

When I finish, Meghan removes my other restraints while Sam holds a knife to Caleb's face. I'm careful to keep my movements slow and deliberate – and not at all threatening – as I rise from the chair. My muscles are stiff from sitting in one position for so long, but I'm not about to complain, not with what my brother has suffered.

Meghan holds my left arm in a vice grip as she takes me out of the room and to a single-person bathroom at the end of the hallway. It quickly becomes obvious that she plans to stay in the room with me.

"I need privacy for this," I comment, feeling heat rising in my cheeks. It's ridiculous that with everything they're doing to us, _this_ should embarrass me, but I spent too long in Abnegation for it not to.

"Too bad," Meghan says spitefully, giving a nasty smirk.

But I hold my ground. "You know I won't cause any trouble while you have my brother out there," I respond, keeping my voice as level as possible. "Besides, it's not like I can escape from here. Why can't you just wait outside the door for me?"

She opens her mouth to answer but then her eyes flit around the bathroom, apparently making sure there's nothing here I could use as a weapon. She must be satisfied that there isn't, because she finally nods and steps outside, closing the door behind her.

As soon as she's gone, I do my own sweep of the room, just in case there _is_ something that could help me, but there's nothing more than toilet paper and soap, and neither of those seems likely to make a good weapon.

I stop by the window, staring out to see if there's anything useful within sight. I already know that we're too far above the ground to jump, but I check to see if there's any way to climb to the roof above us, or anywhere else for that matter. Unfortunately, there isn't.

My eyes move automatically to the closest building, evaluating the windows that face toward this one. We used a ladder to cross between windows when we needed to get into Erudite, and the building next to me now is potentially close enough to do the same thing. But of course, I'd need something to connect them, and I don't have that. Even if I could leave Caleb behind.

I'm just starting to turn away, disappointed, when a movement catches my eye. There's someone standing near the window that faces this one. I can barely see him in the shadows, but when he sees me watching him, he steps closer, returning my gaze. He's not much older than I am, with reddish-blond hair, and he's dressed in the same uniform I saw Lauren wearing earlier. My heart jumps. Is he one of the forces looking for me, trying to rescue me?

For a moment, we both stare, assessing each other. And then he slowly and deliberately salutes me. _He recognizes me._

But is he really with Lauren, or is he wearing a fake uniform the same way the two who captured us did? And even if he's truly from Pittsburgh, whose side is he on now, after my broadcast?

Before I have time to decide how to react, he gestures to the roof and moves his hand in a motion like a string coming down before he points clearly next to my window. I cock my head, uncertain what he's indicating. He holds up a gun, in a clearly non-threatening manner, and repeats the gesture as if it's attached to the string.

And I _get_ it. He heard the "extra" information in my broadcast, and he wants to help me, but he knows he can't just barge in without getting me and Caleb killed. Instead, he's trying to get a weapon to me, so I can fight from the inside.

I don't even hesitate. My heart is still pounding wildly, but I nod very clearly. If my unknown ally can get a gun to where I can reach it from this window, I'll retrieve it, and I'll figure out a way to use it to escape.

The young man smiles before he backs out of sight.

* * *

Caleb can't seem to eat. He fumbles with the food for a while, his movements slow and clumsy, but it's obvious that he's too nauseous to put much into his stomach.

He stumbles badly when he attempts to walk to the bathroom, and Sam ends up hauling him physically out the door. The sound of retching follows soon afterwards, and I know that Caleb didn't make it to the toilet before losing what little he ate.

I bite my lip, waiting anxiously for him to return. It's not as if I care that our captors will need to clean up my brother's vomit, but I do worry that they'll punish him for making them do that. Part of me also fears that our ally might try to contact Caleb and be spotted in the process.

But nothing eventful seems to happen. When they return, Sam dumps my brother back into the other chair, restraining him again with nothing worse than a sour expression. And Caleb closes his eyes, looking too ill to notice anything right now, let alone to form a silent escape plan with someone in another building.

Clearly, I'm the one who has to get us out of here. But it will help if Caleb knows what's coming. So, as I sit there, staring at his slumped form, I think of all the ways I could potentially communicate with him without our captors noticing.

Unfortunately, we never had a language of our own, the way some siblings do. I think of how Lynn and Shauna were able to understand each other as we spied on Jack Kang, and of the Morse code that Uriah and Zeke used to send each other messages. Caleb and I never did anything like that, and he wasn't there when Uriah taught his code to the rest of us.

Still, Caleb is Erudite. He read far more than I realized growing up, and he seems to have memorized everything he ever read. Maybe, by some strange chance, he learned Morse code…. After all, it can't be that unknown a topic, or Uriah and Zeke would never have come across it. It's worth a try.

I'm careful how I start, just in case our captors happen to know Morse code, too. At first, I just fidget in my seat, as if I'm bored and tired of being restrained. Then, I begin tapping the toes of one foot. That proves too difficult with the positioning of my ankle cuff, so I switch to tapping my fingers. Just two of them, in a pattern.

Over and over, I spell "gun." Our guards clearly don't pick up on it – they're busy doing their own fidgeting as they wait. But eventually I see Caleb's gaze lift to mine. I hold his eyes intensely before dropping my focus to my fingers. I'm sure he does, too.

"We have allies," I spell out carefully, repeating it twice. "I will have a gun after next bathroom trip."

I look up again when I finish that, meeting Caleb's eyes. A small thrill of victory goes through me at the comprehension I see there. He keeps it subdued enough for no one else to notice, but it's clear that he understood me.

After that, I return to random finger tapping, keeping up the act to avoid suspicion. I'm still doing it when Brian returns. He saunters in the door with an expression that's difficult to read, followed by one of his lackeys. I don't know where the others are.

"Well, _Tris_," Brian hisses, "your broadcast was _just barely_ good enough for me not to punish your brother yet. But you will repeat it now, and this time, you will find a way to make it more convincing, or he _will_ suffer." His eyes meet mine. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," I answer as levelly as I can, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing in panic at the thought. I don't know how many allies I have, but whatever the number is, it's sure to go down with a second broadcast. Particularly if I have to make it stronger this time, and particularly if they've been drinking the serum-infused water in the meantime.

That means that right now is my best time to act.

"But I need to use the bathroom first," I add, managing to look a bit embarrassed by the statement. I fidget in my seat to make it more convincing.

Brian's mouth tightens in annoyance, and for a second I'm sure he's not going to let me, but then he turns to Meghan and gestures that she should take me.

As soon as I'm alone in the bathroom, I turn on the fan to create noise. And then I step silently to the window, sliding it open as quietly as I can. Every creak makes my heart pound harder, but I manage to get it open enough to lean out, looking to the side where my ally pointed earlier. A massive wave of relief – with an accompanying surge of adrenaline – goes through me when I see the gun hanging there. I don't know how he did it, and right now I don't care, but he's given me a fighting chance.

There's a note attached to the string, too, and I glance at it quickly, not daring to stay in this room too long – and certainly not wanting to have Meghan catch me in the middle of this.

"We plan to storm the building five minutes after you take the gun. If this doesn't work, hold up as many fingers as you want minutes."

My eyes turn to where I saw the young man earlier, and sure enough, he's there again. He stares at me, and I stare back, trying to figure out how much time I want. There's no way of knowing what I'll need, and if I guess wrong – either too short or too long – Caleb and I could both die.

My heart is hammering now with the pressure of making an impossible decision. But I have to pick, and my gut instinct says there's more danger if our allies invade the building too soon. Realistically, they can't possibly reach our room in time to stop the four enemies who are already there. No matter how much I don't want to face the thought, _I_ have to take those four out myself. And that will be harder to do if they're more alert because they hear someone coming.

Swallowing hard, I hold up all ten fingers and wait for my ally to nod before I pull the gun from its string. The metal is cold and heavy in my hands, but it no longer paralyzes me the way it did after I shot Will. Tobias helped me through that problem, and if Caleb and I both survive today, I know I'll have him to thank for that.

_Ten minutes._ I begin the mental countdown as I slide the window shut and shove the gun into my waistband – keeping it toward the back and on my right side. Fortunately, my captors disguised me in large, loose clothing, so the outline of the weapon stays nicely hidden.

Despite the tight timeframe, I take a moment to breathe, preparing myself for what I know I need to do next. There's no way to make this easy, but I have to be Dauntless now, for my brother's sake. More specifically, as I think about it, I need to do what Tobias has always done – put on a front that no one can see past, and ignore my fear in order to help someone I love, no matter what it takes.

I have to be Four now. Or Six, I suppose.

With nine minutes left, I exit the bathroom, keeping my face completely neutral and my movements normal. I'm careful to present my left side to Meghan so she'll grab that arm instinctively, and she does. Then, I stay beside her, instead of in front of her, as she marches me toward the room – to ensure she won't bump into my back and feel the gun there.

Caleb is coughing in pain when I walk through the door, and I can't help but wonder if our captors did anything else to him while I was gone. But his eyes find mine, despite the way he's trying to hunch into his restraints, and in that moment I know that nothing new has happened. _He's creating a diversion._ I give him an infinitesimal nod to let him know I'm now armed.

His coughing sputters out, only to be followed by a loud groan. "I'm going to be sick again," he says, his voice weak and breathless. He looks at Sam, who is trying to hold a knife to him despite his antics.

"Like I care," Sam snarls in response, but he backs off very slightly as Caleb begins gagging like he's trying hard not to vomit.

The sounds draw the attention of everyone in the room. Even Meghan stares at him, her grip loosening just a little as her focus shifts away from me. She jumps slightly, instinctively, when Caleb abruptly retches onto Sam's feet.

I'm not quite sure how he managed to do that, but there's no doubt that it's effective. Every eye in the room is fixed on him, and on Sam. I take the opportunity to slide the gun from my waistband. No one notices.

Taking a deep breath, I aim directly at Sam's head. There is no time for warnings, and I can't just shoot to injure when we're outnumbered this badly, so I can't let myself think of this man as someone who's been brainwashed by Brian and isn't responsible for his actions. Instead, I think of him as the man who murdered Nigel in cold blood. The man who tortured Caleb and clearly enjoyed it. The man who will kill my brother if I don't kill him first.

The bullet goes through his skull, and then I'm instantly firing at Meghan, too. She's close enough that her blood splatters on my face, and it takes every ounce of resolve I possess to ignore that as I turn to Brian's third guard, making another kill shot before he has time to react.

I face Brian last, aiming directly at his head. He's fumbling with his own weapon, but he stops when he sees my barrel pointing at him.

"I surrender," he says, his voice shaky with fear, as he lifts his hands into the air.

The words make me freeze. I can't shoot him if he's not a threat, but I can't trust him near Caleb, which means I can't have him free my brother, and I can't do that myself while keeping a gun aimed at him. I don't know what to do.

"Take your gun out slowly and drop it on the floor," I hiss at him, trying to think.

He nods, reaching to his side at a glacial pace. Outside the room, I hear the sounds of pounding feet approaching from a distant part of the building. _Has it been ten minutes yet?_

His fingers close around his gun as his eyes flick toward the door, and I can see the triumph that he tries to hide. _No, it hasn't been long enough yet._ Brian has helpers coming, and I can't fight him off as well as them.

I open my mouth to say something else – I'm not sure what – when Brian grabs for his gun. There's no hesitation as I pull the trigger.

_Wrong answer_, I find myself thinking, aiming the words at him the way he snapped them at me earlier, but it's a terrible, spiteful thought, and I don't voice it aloud.

Instead, I race for the door, trying to somehow breathe through the pressure that's filling my chest and threatening to burst out of me. I can't stop whoever's coming just by locking the door, but it will buy us a little time, and I have to at least do that.

Returning to Caleb just as quickly, I remove his restraints with fumbling fingers.

"Remember how to shoot?" I ask him, knowing that he can barely stand, let alone aim right now. But there's no choice. He and I need to hold off whoever gets here before our allies do. _Why didn't I stick with five minutes?_

"Yeah," he gasps in response as I retrieve the gun from Sam's body and hand it to him. I'm racing toward Brian to collect his weapon, too, since mine is now down four bullets, when Caleb speaks again.

"Beatrice, the broadcast…. You can stop them that way."

My body wheels toward the equipment so fast I almost fall. _He's right._

"Watch the door," I call as I leap for the computer, wiring myself to it as rapidly as my fingers can move. I make the same connections that Brian did earlier – the same ones I practiced in the bomb shelter so long ago when we were preparing for our mission. But I make one additional adjustment, moving the dial from "Pop" to "St." I can only hope that means "Staff." The other markings, "No" and "Me," seem less likely.

"Stop!" I shout mentally, projecting my full fear and hope into the signal the way Tobias did eight months ago. "Stop obeying Brian Larimer! He wants to return you to the NUSA days, and that is _wrong_! We are on the brink of a new government, and we _have_ to move forward. Do not let Brian's lies stop that."

I glance at Caleb, seeing if he's reacting to the message at all. If I'm right about the setting, he shouldn't be able to hear it – and no one should be invading the room. I'm reassured when I see Caleb still staring at the door, waiting.

"Put down your weapons!" I project with the same intensity. "And surrender to the security forces who are loyal to our new government." But I know that's not specific enough. Tobias put _me_ in charge, and like it or not, I have to reiterate that role. "_I_, Tris Prior, am still your president, not Brian Larimer. Surrender to _me_, and to those who are loyal to _me_."

It's a quick message, and it's not nearly as good as Tobias', but it's enough for now. Still, just in case I'm wrong about the setting, I flip the dial to "Pop" for a second broadcast. Caleb freezes instantly, turning toward me and staring, and I know I'm right about it addressing the main population. I shift my message instantly to a more reassuring one, but one that reverses what Brian had me send earlier. One that encourages everyone to continue with the path that Tobias set out for them.

As a precaution, I repeat my more urgent broadcast on the other two settings that are marked. I doubt either of them does anything, but it's better to be safe. By the time I finish, someone is knocking on the door.

"Tris?" a female voice calls loudly. "It's Lauren."

****_A/N: There are a couple more chapters left in what I've been calling the action sequence. Those will be coming soon. In the meantime, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Reviews always motivate me better than anything else to get me to write and post as often as possible. And I really, really love them...  
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	18. Chapter 18: Tris - Aftershocks

************_********_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I appreciate your support more than I can say. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. You're both amazingly helpful!  
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**Chapter 18: Tris – Aftershocks**

I wonder if Tobias felt this confused after I pulled him out of the simulation, as we fled from Dauntless. When he abruptly found himself in the middle of someone else's plan and just had to go along with it.

Lauren and the man who communicated with me from the other building lead us through the hallways, guns out as they sweep each corridor before rushing us through it.

Voices echo around us – shouts from a half-dozen different people calling out their names and indicating that their area is clear. They're following a rescue plan that I know nothing about, even though I'm obviously the subject of it, and all I can do is trust that they're really on our side and will get us out of here safely. After everything we've just been through, it's hard to trust that much.

Caleb struggles to keep up, wheezing and moving with difficulty. I don't know how much damage Sam did to him, and there's no time to stop and assess it now, so I just wrap my arm around him and have him lean on me as we run.

Two others who are wearing the same type of uniform as Lauren join us when we reach the sidewalk, and they escort us rapidly down the street to where the car we've been taking around the country waits. A wave of relief goes through me when I see Adam, our driver, at the wheel. Right now, it doesn't feel safe to trust _anyone_, but his familiar face still seems preferable to all these strangers'.

"Get in the car and go," Lauren says as she grabs Caleb from the other side and helps me maneuver him through the door. "We'll take care of the cleanup here."

"Is Michelle…" I start to ask, but I don't want to finish the question. The odds are high that my second bodyguard is dead, too.

"She's alive," the man I think of as "ally" answers. "But she's probably still in surgery. She'll have to meet up with you later."

Lauren furrows her eyebrows at that, clearly thinking. Then, she turns to him and says, "Micky, go with them. They need a guard, and I have to stay here." Shifting her attention to me, she adds, "You can trust him. He's the one who found you – he heard something in your broadcast."

It's clear from her expression that she doesn't understand that part at all, and I remember that she wasn't with us when we injected receivers into ourselves during the mission. She's probably never heard _any_ of the broadcasts. But this Micky undoubtedly has. And he must be resistant to the serum if he heard the extra information I transmitted – the information that I expected only Peter to be able to hear.

That, plus the fact that he just saved our lives, makes me willing to accept his company. So, I nod. He does, too, following Lauren's orders after a moment's hesitation and climbing into the car next to Adam.

"Take care of Mary, okay?" he says to Lauren before he closes his door.

And then we're winding our way through the town, Caleb's rapid breathing matching my own as we both stare wildly out the windows, uncertain what to expect next.

"How badly injured are you?" Micky asks Caleb.

"I don't know," he mumbles, shaking his head a little. "I've been trying not to think about it."

Micky frowns. "Can you wait until we get to Pittsburgh? It'll take about an hour, but the local hospital is…well, full of wounded from the shooting. Plus, I don't know how much to trust it right now."

"Yeah," Caleb responds immediately, "no problem." I can tell from his tone that he has no idea if that's a true statement or not. But after all the selflessness he's shown today, I know there's no way he'll go to a hospital where he doesn't feel like I'm safe.

I don't want him in one I can't trust, either, but I also don't want him dying in the car.

"Are you sure you can wait?" I ask him softly so that only he can hear. "One of those punches sounded like it broke a rib. What if it punctured your lung?" I bite my lip, thinking of how that felt when it happened to me. If Caleb hadn't gotten me to the hospital when he did, I probably would have died that day.

"No, it doesn't feel that bad," he insists. "At worst, it might be cracked."

"What about your cheek? That might need stitches." But as I look at it more closely, I realize it's stopped bleeding. I don't know much about medicine, but that probably means it can wait the extra time.

Caleb gives me a tired smile. "I'm all right, Beatrice. Really. I just want to get somewhere safe."

So, I pull him gently against me, letting him sag onto my shoulder as he closes his eyes. And I do something I remember our mother doing many years ago, whenever one of us was sick. I sing softly – some ancient lullaby I don't really understand but always found soothing.

Caleb is silent while I sing. So silent that I assume he's drifted off to sleep, but I finish the last repetition of the song anyway, thinking about our parents. About our mother taking care of us, and trimming my hair, and teaching me so many gentle lessons about how to live. And my father running his fingers lightly over my head as he'd smile in greeting or farewell, and the sound of his voice at the dinner table.

"I miss them," Caleb murmurs. His voice is thick, and it echoes the pain going through me.

"I do, too."

"If…." But he stops, choking on whatever he started to say. Swallowing hard, he tries again. "If I had been more resistant to Jeanine's serum, and had been able to refuse to help her, do you think they would still be alive?"

The question fills me with so many feelings and memories I can't possibly answer at first. I can still picture their deaths so clearly – and I still feel overwhelming guilt at the thought of how they died _for me_.

But of course none of that would have happened if Jeanine hadn't attacked Abnegation. It's hardly surprising that my brother feels the same crippling guilt I do, after he helped her with that attack.

What does surprise me is how I answer.

"I think," I say slowly, "that we need to stop blaming ourselves for what Jeanine did." I take a deep breath, pushing back the tears as I realize that for the first time, I truly believe that. "_She_ attacked Abnegation. We didn't. And yes, maybe there's something we could have done differently, in a perfect world, to make things turn out better, but we aren't perfect."

I give a small shrug. "We did the best we could. It wasn't enough, but maybe…it's time to forgive ourselves for being human." Caleb looks at me, his eyes filled with tears, and I manage to meet his gaze despite the moisture in my own. "It's what they'd want, you know."

He nods, the tears falling down his cheeks now, and I can see him struggling to come up with words.

"I love you, Beatrice," he finally whispers.

"I love you, too."

* * *

The hospital in Pittsburgh is busy, but they rush Caleb in immediately. To my relief, they let me stay with him, even through his tests. Their communication, on the other hand, is less than ideal, and it takes more than three hours for us to hear that there's no serious damage from the torture he endured.

The doctors tape the cut on his cheek and wrap his ribs tightly, telling him that he'll heal with rest but that he should expect to be very sore for a week or two. And then they settle him into a bed for the night.

I'm glad when they tell me I can sleep on the other bed in his room. I don't want to leave him right now, and besides, I have no idea where else to stay in this city that I've only seen once before.

Micky sets himself up on a chair outside the door, still guarding us, and I'm grateful for his presence. Just this morning, I felt as if I didn't need anyone to watch over me, but now it seems like I'll never feel safe again.

He only interrupts us once, as we're getting ready to go to sleep. The fear must show on my face, because he gives me a reassuring smile as he asks if it's okay for Adam to deliver a message to his wife and then sleep on their couch for the night. A stab of guilt goes through me as I realize that I never thought to worry about where our driver would sleep – or to think about who might worry when Micky didn't return home at the usual time.

"Of course," I agree quickly, and Micky nods before retreating back to the hallway.

It's not surprising that sleep eludes me, after everything that happened during the day. Caleb's agony repeats through my mind over and over, interrupted only by images of the four people I killed. Those in turn remind me of all the other lives I've taken, until I find myself shaking under the warm covers. I've seen far too much in my almost-seventeen years of life, and far too many people have died at my hands.

It's hard not to jump a little when Caleb speaks. "Thank you," he says softly, "for saving my life today. I know it wasn't easy."

I don't know how to answer that, so I lie there quietly. It's probably selfish, but maybe if I just keep breathing evenly, he'll think I'm asleep.

"You probably don't realize this," he adds after a moment, "but I do know how it feels to be in your position." The words startle me, but I still don't respond. There's no way he could possibly know what that was like.

He sighs – a slow, tired sound coming from his worn body. "When you and Tobias were practicing your broadcasts back in the bomb shelter, he practiced sending a message to me. It was a test, I guess, to decide if I could go on the mission with you."

I turn onto my side, looking at him across the dimly lit room. I remember suspecting that something like that had happened, but I never had a chance to ask Tobias about it before he left. And I had no desire to ask Caleb later.

My brother's eyes are on me as he continues. "He showed me how he felt when he thought you were going to your execution in Erudite." A shudder passes through me. "It…. It was horrible." He swallows hard. "And then he showed me how he felt when Peter brought you in, and he realized you were still alive." I'm staring at him wide-eyed now.

"He knew in that moment that he would have to kill people to get you out of there, and I felt how he made that decision – how he came to terms with it. It was the only way to save you, and to him that was the most important thing in the world. So, he just accepted that you were his priority." He pauses, shifting a little on his bed before adding, "He would have done _anything_ to keep you safe."

Something hard is pushing its way into my throat, and maybe into my chest too. It's difficult to breathe.

"I know that's what it took for you to get me out of there today," Caleb says gently. "And I want you to know that I understand. And I'm thankful."

"I was thinking of him," I manage to whisper past the thickness in my throat. Somehow, it feels right to admit this now. "I think, in many ways, he got me through it."

Caleb's lips turn up a little. "I know what you mean," he answers softly. "He's affected me a lot, too, between the two broadcasts I heard from him." He pauses, catching his breath through the pain in his ribs. "I like to think I'm a better person now than I was. But I know that if I am, it's because of him."

That's a difficult statement to answer, particularly since it's probably true. So, I just turn my face toward the ceiling, letting the tears finally begin to slip down my cheeks.

"I miss him," I say so quietly I'm not sure if Caleb hears me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him nod. "I know," he murmurs. There's no real comfort in the words, but somehow they reassure me anyway. They make me feel less alone.

And gradually, they ease something deep inside me, some emptiness that has been there since Tobias left. His presence is still all around me, I realize now. In the influence that he's had on everyone in this country, and on my brother, and on me. Those parts of him will always be here.

I let them soothe me as sleep finally catches up with my exhausted body.

* * *

************_********_****_A/N: There's one more chapter left in the action sequence, and then we begin the shift back to Chicago. And for those who are anxiously waiting, ************_********_Tris and Tobias will get back together in Chapter 22 and will be together for the rest of the story, which will probably be around 35 chapters in total. I just realized that I never really said this, but I took a lot of the ideas I had for one-off stories and put them together in this story; that's how it ended up being so long. Any other one-offs I write won't be NEARLY this long! :-)  
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************_********_****_Anyway, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I really do love reviews; they always brighten my day, and I could use that right now. It's been a very long week..._****_********_************


	19. Chapter 19: Anna - Security

**************_********_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I appreciate your support so much. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time. Your feedback really helps!_********_**************

**Chapter 19: Anna – Security**

I have to keep reminding myself of what Lauren said – that Tris and Caleb are safe now – to keep myself sane through the long drive. There's nothing like six hours in a car to make one imagine all the worst-case scenarios.

For the first two hours, Peter tries to reassure me, repeating his proposed changes to Tris' security over and over in answer to my increasingly belligerent questions. Eventually, we reach the point where we can't deal with each other anymore, and we sit in agitated silence for the rest of the way. It seems a miserable eternity.

We're both glad when he gets out at Greensburg. He'll supervise the rest of the cleanup while I continue on to Pittsburgh with Tris' new security contingent. I'm not sure how she'll react to having four full-time bodyguards from now on, but at the moment, that number seems far too small to me.

The hospital is relatively quiet. A nurse leads us through the tiled hallways to where she says Tris and Caleb are sleeping. She isn't part of their medical team, so she isn't any help with my questions, but at least she seems to know where she's going. She stops outside a door when a young man with a gun blocks our way.

"Who are you?" he demands, looking between us distrustfully as his index finger hovers over the trigger of his weapon. The guards I brought with me immediately reach for their own guns, but I wave them down. It's clear from his protective posture and rumpled police uniform that this man is here to defend my grandchildren. I certainly don't want him to be shot for that.

"I'm Anna," I tell him. "Tris' grandmother."

He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously, and I carefully extend my identification card, holding it out so he'll have time to examine it thoroughly. But his gaze only flicks to it briefly before returning to us. He's obviously not willing to trust us based just on uniforms and cards. Given what Lauren said about how the abductors disguised themselves in Greensburg, I can't blame him.

"You must be Micky," I continue, keeping my voice calm. "Lauren said she sent you here with Tris and Caleb."

That appears to help, because he relaxes very slightly. His gaze moves over me again, focusing for a moment on my left hand.

"Where's your ring?" he asks abruptly. The question takes me aback.

"The one Tobias retrieved for you," he adds in the same sharp voice.

For a long moment, all I can do is stare. How could he _possibly_ know about that? But nevertheless, it's a form of identification I can provide.

Very slowly, I reach for the chain around my neck, pulling it out and extending the rings for Micky to see.

He takes in the sight for a couple of long seconds before he nods. "Sorry," he says as he lowers his gun. "I just had to be sure."

"Understandable." The side of my mouth quirks upward. "Though I would like an explanation of _this_ a little later," I add as I lift the rings toward him before tucking them back in place against my heart. "After I see my grandchildren."

A small smile shapes his lips as he nods again. "Yeah, that would be fair." He steps out of the way, the light shadowing his face with the movement, and for the first time I realize just how tired he looks. He's probably been guarding the room all night.

"They're finally asleep," he comments. "If you can avoid waking them up, that would be good." I give him a gentle smile, letting him know I share his concern.

"I'll try, but I have to see for myself that they're all right."

Turning to the guards I brought with me, I say, "Position yourselves so you cover the hallway as well as the door." And then I slip quietly into the room.

I see Caleb first – or more accurately, his bed. He's surrounded by medical equipment, but nothing that looks overly alarming. They seem to be the standard devices used for any patient who stays overnight.

My eyes hang on him in the dim light, and for a long moment, I just watch him breathe, reassuring myself that he is indeed safe and alive. When I finally get my fill, I move on to Tris. She's lying on her side, her brow furrowed and her breathing quick from whatever dream she's having. Not surprisingly, it doesn't appear to be a good one.

But as Micky pointed out, at least she's asleep. Even with nightmares, that's better than nothing, so I let her be.

Sliding back out the door as soundlessly as I entered, I catch Micky's gaze. "They're still asleep," I reassure him, and he smiles a little.

Resting a hand lightly on his arm, I add, "Let's talk, shall we?"

"Okay," he says without complaint, despite how exhausted he obviously is. "But it's a long story."

"I'll make the time," I answer.

He does, too, as we chat in an empty part of the hallway where we won't be overheard. It's difficult to know exactly what to make of everything he tells me, but gradually two things become clear.

First, Tobias put considerably more effort into retrieving my ring than he indicated to me. And second, if he hadn't done that, Lauren never would have hired Micky, and Tris and Caleb would probably be dead now.

It's a startling conclusion, yet I have to admit it seems fitting somehow. Whether or not he's there in person, Tobias _always_ seems to find a way to help Tris when she needs it most. And honestly, I doubt that will ever change.

* * *

By the time Peter and Lauren arrive, Micky has gone home to sleep and Tris and Caleb are both awake. They're doing better than I expected, though I know it will take time to work through all the effects of yesterday.

There's a small scowl on Peter's face as he gives Tris an evaluating look.

"Exactly how did you do that?" he demands. She has to arch an eyebrow at him before he specifies, "Reprogram that Larimer guy's staff? I didn't think the NUSA leaders or their workers ever had receivers injected into them."

Tris' mouth flattens, probably at his use of the term "reprogram." I'm sure she doesn't want to think of her broadcasts that way, even if it's true.

"Well, if what I did worked," she begins, annoyance clear in her tone, "then they do." She exchanges a glance with Caleb, who nods in agreement. "And really, it seemed obvious from their behavior that they were receiving _some_ kind of messages – just not the ones the rest of the population heard."

She shrugs. "So, I assume that there's a way of changing what frequency each receiver picks up. And that the different NUSA families used different frequencies to send private messages to their staff."

The words floor me, because when she says them, they seem so obvious that I don't know how we missed the concept for so long. But by this point in my life, I know that everything is clearer in hindsight, so I swallow my frustrations and listen as she continues.

"In terms of how I actually sent them a message, there was a knob on the equipment that…." She pauses, her mouth forming a bitter expression before she spits out, "_Our abductor_ kept adjusting, so I decided that it probably controlled who the broadcast went to. And I transmitted to the different settings on it."

Caleb smiles, looking proud of his sister. "Clearly, it worked," he says.

We're all silent for a few seconds as we digest that. Finally, Caleb speaks again, looking thoughtful – and perhaps a bit apologetic.

"In fairness, it was probably a lot easier to figure all of that out after seeing the whole thing in action." He glances between Peter and Tris, lifting his shoulders in a small movement. "I mean, I didn't guess any of this until then, either, but when I watched the broadcast that they forced Beatrice to do, it was obvious."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Peter mutters, still looking irritated that we didn't discover this months ago. He's never liked being shown up, and he probably feels as if that just happened. But I can also tell that he's already thinking about how to use this new information for his job. Whether Tris admits it or not, he really does take his work very seriously.

"Anyway," Caleb says quickly, trying to defuse the tension, "this opens up some new options." He sounds excited. "If we still have the original equipment that NUSA used for the whole population, we can modify it to send a broadcast on all of the frequencies _except_ the one the general population hears."

He looks at Tris as he adds, "And then you could send a message to everyone who didn't hear Tobias' broadcast. You could get them to turn in the people they've been protecting."

Tris looks thoughtful, but I find myself nodding in agreement. There's no way that any remaining NUSA leaders or prominent families could have avoided custody for this long without help. And if we can get those helpers to turn against their bosses, we should be able to capture them all in one fell swoop.

"Do we have enough of the equipment left?" Tris asks, her eyes moving between me and Peter.

"We disconnected it all," I answer, "and dismantled the key components. But we kept the pieces. So, yes, we could put it back together if we want to do this."

For a long moment, Tris considers the idea, and I understand her hesitation. The country got into this mess in the first place because of that equipment. Putting it back together, for any reason, is risky, though I still think it's worth the chance.

Finally, she looks at her brother. "Can you assemble it differently than it used to be?" she asks. "So, it could _only_ be used for the other frequencies? And no one could _ever_ use it for the whole population?"

A smile grows on his face as the words sink in, and I find one growing on mine, too. Sometimes, I forget just how smart my granddaughter is.

"Yes, I can do that," Caleb says firmly.

He squares his shoulders proudly, and it's easy to see why. For the first time, I see complete trust in the way Tris is looking at him. It's a beautiful sight.

************_********_****_A/N: This is the end of the "action sequence." The next chapter is with Tris again, but it starts the sequence of her returning to Chicago. She ************_********_and Tobias will get back together shortly after that, in Chapter 22. I'm currently drafting some of those chapters, and I must say I'm having fun with them. I should warn you, though, that Anna doesn't tell Tris about the ring or about what Tobias did. Tris does eventually find out, but I want to save that for later. :-)  
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************_********_****_Anyway, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I know it's short, but hopefully it's satisfying anyway. Thanks!  
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	20. Chapter 20: Tris - Elections

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You really cheered me up after a rough week. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! This chapter is extremely short, but the good news is that I'll be posting the next one very soon - probably tomorrow.**_

**Chapter 20: Tris – Elections**

It feels like this day took forever to arrive, and then just as long to be over. By the end of it, I'm a nervous wreck, waiting anxiously for news that the election was successful in all the voting districts of our new country.

Despite the broadcast that Caleb helped me set up, and its apparent success in rooting out the last remnants of NUSA, I can't help worrying that there are still some former leaders hiding out there. And that they will attack at the last minute.

But my pessimism proves to be unfounded. The election results trickle in slowly, giving numbers for each candidate that indicate virtually the entire population voted. And there are no reports of violence.

By the time I finally go to bed, all of the polling places have closed, and it's clear that the election went far more smoothly than I could have hoped. Caleb obviously did an amazing job with it.

When I get up in the morning, there's a summary of the election results at the foot of my bed. I smile, wondering whether it was Anna or Caleb who delivered it. If there's one thing I've enjoyed the most about the last nine and a half months, it would have to be the time I've spent with both of them. I feel like I didn't appreciate my family enough growing up, but I know better now, and I relish the time I have with my grandmother and brother.

But neither of them is here right now, so I take the opportunity to pore over the paper on my bed. I refused to endorse anyone, since my voice carries enough weight to sway the results, but I'm glad to see that Jessica Andrews won the presidency. She was my first choice – and the person I voted for.

It looks like she'll have a good council to work with, too. I don't know all of the names I see among the results, but I'm pleased to see the ones I do know. And I'm especially glad to see that Anna is now Chicago's representative. She'll do a fantastic job.

Crossing my room to the calendar that I keep hanging on the wall, I cross off another day. The new government will officially take power two weeks from today – almost ten months after Tobias' broadcast. At that point, I'll technically be done with my job, though I agreed to stay for another month or two to help them get started.

After that, I'll be moving back to Chicago. It took me a while to be certain about my choice, particularly since it will be strange to live apart from Caleb and Anna again, now that I've gotten so used to seeing them every day. But I know that things are different in the city than they were when I last lived there. We'll be able to see each other regularly now, even if we live in different factions. Or in Anna's case, in no faction at all.

I stretch before heading to the bathroom to take a shower. I'll give Christina a call afterwards, I think. It's time to ask if I can live in her faction. _In Tobias' faction._ I'd prefer that to moving back into Dauntless, for more reasons than I care to list, but if _he_'s dead-set against it, then Dauntless is my backup.

His image drifts through my mind despite myself, and I know there's no way to fool Christina when I talk to her. Whether or not I admit it, she'll know that I'm hoping to be near Tobias again. But maybe that's okay. If he agrees to let me move in there, it will tell me a lot about how he feels these days.

I just hope the answer is what I want to hear.

_**A/N: I know this was quick, but I'd still love it if you reviewed... :-)**_


	21. Chapter 21: Christina - Voting

**_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter already! I was so happy to get all those responses in just a day. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_**

**_**Judging by some reviews, it seems that there are still people reading this who haven't read "Determinant" yet. This story will make far more sense if you read that one first. To find it, click on the "Windchimed" link near the top of this page. That will take you to my Profile page. Scroll to the bottom of it, and you'll see all of my stories listed there. Please take a look! Seriously. If you read much further in here, you'll really spoil "Determinant," so go read it first. I mean it...**_**

**_****_**Anyway, as promised, here's the next chapter just a day after the last one.**_****_**

* * *

**Chapter 21: Christina – Voting**

My inner Candor says to lay Tris' request on the table, in front of everyone at once. It's hard to know how Four will react, but this isn't just his decision. And talking to him in advance would imply that it is.

So, as we're all finishing dinner, I ask that we hold a faction meeting afterwards. People want to know why, of course, but for once I seal my lips and say they'll find out soon enough. Maybe I'm finally learning when _not_ to blurt everything out.

The rest of us migrate to the gathering room while Uriah and Zeke take care of the dishes. It's really just Zeke's turn, but Uriah must owe him some kind of favor, because he helps without being asked.

While we wait, Shauna and Cara discuss an experiment that Erudite is doing on stimulating nerve endings. Apparently, it holds promise that Shauna could regain feeling in her lower body – and potentially some level of movement, though Cara is careful to say that it probably wouldn't be enough to let her walk again. I'm glad to see that caveat right up front; I never like it when people hold out false hope.

George chimes in periodically, and his helpful comments remind me that he has an aptitude for Erudite along with Dauntless. I try not to think in those terms anymore, since our faction focuses on continuous self-improvement in _all_ areas, not just our natural strengths, but old habits die hard.

It takes a while for Zeke and Uriah to finally join us, finishing up their conversation as they enter the room.

"I'm telling you – it's yellow," Uriah says as he plops onto the couch between me and Cara.

Zeke just shakes his head as he sits at the end of the second couch, closest to where Shauna perches in her wheelchair. "We'll go look tomorrow, but if I'm right, you're buying cake on the way back."

Uriah opens his mouth to answer, but I clear my throat to get their attention and smile when they turn to me. It's time to begin.

"Okay, I'm just going to be blunt here," I start. Half the group smirks, and I know that doesn't exactly shock them. "Tris is planning to move back to the city in a month or two, and she has asked about the possibility of living here."

Four looks up sharply at the mention of his ex's name, and I study his expression to see what he's feeling. He's gotten a lot better at communicating over the last few months, but he still rarely admits to his emotions at the moment he feels them. Fortunately, I've gotten good at reading his poker face.

Right now, I see plenty of determination, with perhaps a trace of fear and definitely an edge of raw hope. I don't know if I should crush it or not, since it's difficult to say just what Tris wants when it comes to him. I don't think she knows, herself.

I decide to ignore it for now.

"So," I continue, "we need to take a vote, right?" As one of the newer members of the faction, I've only been here for one vote, but I'm pretty sure that's the usual process.

"Yes," Four answers immediately.

"Is that a 'yes' we need to vote or a 'yes' vote?" Uriah asks with a grin.

Four just looks at him. "Both," he answers a bit coldly, touchy, as always, about discussing Tris with Uriah. He's come to terms with their kiss, but that doesn't mean he'll ever like it.

"Not so fast," Zeke says, frowning at Four. "You need to think about this, man. You can't just vote on the hope that you'll get back together."

"I'm not," Four snaps, not even trying to hide his annoyance. His feelings are always strongest when it comes to Tris. I guess we'll see how that affects his anger management today.

Zeke is clearly unfazed. "So, you'd be _just fine_ watching her date someone else?" he asks, raising a cynical eyebrow. Gesturing toward his brother, he adds, "Even Uriah?"

It's a reasonable question, though judging by Four's expression, he considers it to be a low blow. For a long moment, the two of them glare at each other, and then Four speaks in a level tone.

"She could do a lot worse."

It's an interesting response, and I study his face again, noticing that he's hiding more fear in the set of his mouth now than before. I wonder who he's thinking of that would be so much worse than Uriah.

Shauna makes an exasperated sound. "Yeah, of course she could, but that's not the point. The _point_ is that no matter who it is, you'd have to watch it, and the rest of us would have to watch you tear yourself apart in response. And maybe we don't want to do that!"

There's no way to miss the fury on Four's face at that comment. "I am not a _child_," he snarls, his eyes boring into Shauna, "who needs you to make decisions for him." He sweeps his gaze over the rest of us. "I am a grown man, and I know exactly what I'm voting for here. My answer is still yes. Tris should be able to live where she chooses, and _I_ will find a way to deal with whatever happens next."

His voice is low and dangerous when he adds, "And if any of you vote otherwise, it had damned well better not be in some attempt to _protect me_."

There's dead silence after he finishes, and I half expect him to storm out of the room during it, but he doesn't. He controls his temper and remains sitting, focusing his intense gaze on each of us in turn to make sure we understand just how serious he is. The Candor in me would find it kind of hot, if he were remotely my type.

Cara clears her throat, drawing our attention to her. "The same applies to me," she says firmly. "I've come to terms with the fact that Tris killed my brother, and I'm fine with having her live here. Your votes shouldn't have anything to do with me, either."

The words send guilt through me. It's been a long time since I associated my best friend with Will's death. After seeing the others when they were under the simulation – and trying everything I could think of to keep Marlene from climbing on that ledge – I know that Tris really didn't have a choice when she shot Will. If she had just injured him, he wouldn't have stopped.

But this isn't the time to dwell on that. Refocusing my thoughts, I say, "So, that's two 'yes' votes, right?" Cara nods, and I manage a small smile in response, despite the turmoil she's created in my stomach.

"I'm one as well," I add. "You know, just in case anyone doubted it…."

"So am I," Amar says far more forcefully than he normally speaks. "Absolutely." The intensity makes everyone stare at him. He tries so hard to keep an even keel, to avoid stirring up all the demons in his head. But he looks _strong_ right now. Dauntless. It reminds me that Four's broadcast made him see Tris as a role model, and maybe it would be good for him to have her around.

"I don't know her well," George says, giving his husband an evaluating look, "but I have no objections."

We all turn toward the last three. Shauna purses her lips, watching Four and crossing her arms over her chest while Zeke looks more contemplative.

"All right, then," Zeke says quietly. "I'm going to trust that you know what you're doing, Four." He glances at me as he adds, "Yes."

Shauna sighs as she nods slowly. "Yeah, okay," she mutters, dropping her hands onto the wheels of her chair and moving back and forth a bit as she often does when she's agitated.

All eyes turn to Uriah, who gives a nervous smile. "Um, I'm really new here, so I'm just going to abstain, okay?"

"What?!" several of us demand at once.

"You little pansycake," Zeke scoffs, using Uriah's word against him. "What – Four can watch her date someone else if it comes down to it, but you can't. Is that it?"

I know instantly that he guessed right – that Uriah may be fine with seeing Tris and Four together, but he doesn't want to watch her with anyone else. After the broadcast, I can't entirely blame him. It feels wrong to think about either of them with someone new.

But of course Uriah denies it.

"Nah, I already told you – she doesn't like me that way. And I'm not dumb enough to keep chasing someone who isn't interested." He gives a smile that would be convincing if I hadn't spent my entire childhood in Candor.

"Besides," he adds, his grin widening, "I've moved on." To my enormous surprise, he leans closer to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah, _that's_ not happening," I state flatly, despite the smile I can feel tugging at my lips. Honestly, there's no denying that he's hot – and a good guy, for that matter. But if we ever get together, it won't be now. Neither of us is at the right point in our lives for that.

So, I take hold of his wrist, giving it a nice little self-defense twist as I lift his arm from my shoulders. I grin as he winces in response.

"Ow!" he exclaims in a highly exaggerated voice. But he doesn't even pause before wrapping his other arm around Cara. He's having a hard time keeping a straight face as he continues, "As I said, I've moved on…."

It's an effective distraction. Most of us laugh, and even Four cracks a smile. Cara, on the other hand, looks vaguely disgusted.

"No. Absolutely not." She squirms away from him. "It was bad enough kissing Zeke."

There's a _long_ pause at that before Uriah and Four both lose it, bursting into more laughter than I've ever seen from my former instructor. Zeke, in the meantime, turns a deep shade of red, while Shauna, unsurprisingly, looks _livid_.

"What?!" She rounds on her boyfriend. "What the hell, Zeke?"

"It wasn't…" he splutters, looking at the others for help. "It was just a _joke_, I swear. I didn't think anyone would really _do_ it."

And they launch into a story about favors that occurred while rescuing Caleb from Erudite, and exactly what happened while I was stuck in the other building with my injured leg. It's absolutely hilarious, but half-way through, I notice that Four has turned away from Zeke and is looking at me. His expression has turned serious again, and I meet his gaze curiously.

"I'll start getting an apartment ready for her," he says simply. His voice is just loud enough for me to hear him over the raucous story-telling, and I nod to let him know I understood.

"We'll help, too," George offers, but Four shakes his head firmly.

"No," he answers. "This one is mine."

* * *

_**A/N: That's the first time I've written from Christina's perspective, and I kind of enjoyed it. It was interesting to think how someone who grew up Candor would view the world. Please let me know what you thought of it.**_

_**By the way, the next chapter returns to Tobias' POV. It's basically Chapter 45 (Returning) from "Determinant," but showing Tobias' day instead of Tris'. And yes, he sees Tris again at the end of it... :-)**_


	22. Chapter 22: Tobias - Preparation

**_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and **_**to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_** Your reward is to get this chapter sooner than I expected. It's relatively short, but I liked writing it anyway. Hopefully, you'll enjoy reading it.  
**_**

**Chapter 22: Tobias – Preparation**

I take a final pass through Tris' apartment in the morning, making sure everything is ready for her. I've spent so much time in this space over the last two months that it's strange to realize I might not be welcome in here after today.

But I don't let that bother me. Instead, I look at the rooms from multiple angles, making sure that the furniture lines up right and that everything works together. It's a nice mix of Abnegation and Dauntless – one that feels comfortable to me. I hope it evokes the same sentiment in her.

My fingers brush over the comforter on the bed as I smooth it out one more time. It's so much like the one I had in Dauntless, and I can't help remembering how Tris looked the last time she was in my apartment there – when I entered and saw her holding the blanket to her face, trying to smell my scent on it. Seeking comfort before she gave herself up to Jeanine to save everyone else….

She'll never know how many times I've sought the same comfort myself, trying to find the last remnants of her scent in the blanket on my current bed. We only spent one night on it together, but it was the best night of my life.

Turning from the bed, I move my eyes over the nightstand, pausing on the photo album that I created for her. It took as long to make that as it did to get the entire rest of the apartment ready, and honestly I'm a little nervous about how she'll react to it. The Abnegation don't take pictures, so it's possible she won't appreciate seeing images of her parents.

But I think she will. I think it enough to have spent weeks tracking down old security footage from the different factions and poring through it to find pictures of Andrew and Natalie. And additional weeks sharpening the grainy images and adding color to them. They turned out well.

With a last look, I head toward the door, glancing at the small kitchen on my way out, and at the cupboard I stocked with Abnegation tea. Maybe, if I'm far luckier than I deserve, Tris and I will sit here together someday, sipping cups of it. I can hope so, anyway.

* * *

It feels like a day to work with my hands, so I spend it renovating the apartment building that the new Urban Farming faction will be using. I still have my doubts about that particular theme – it seems like it's basically just a branch of Amity – but enough of the others on the Faction Approval Committee voted for it that it passed.

And really, that's fine with me. When I joined the committee, I promised myself that I'd help every faction that was approved regardless of whether or not I voted for it personally. And I've stayed true to that, so I have no problem spending today building walls for a series of algae tanks. They're actually kind of interesting.

It's difficult to stay focused in the afternoon, though. My mind keeps wandering to Tris, thinking about whether she's arrived yet or not. Christina wanted to be the one to welcome her, and that makes sense for a lot of reasons. But it's still hard not to be there for that first moment.

I finally decide to head home in the late afternoon, unable to wait any longer. Stopping in the bathroom on the way out, I clean up a bit, since I've gotten somewhat dirty and sweaty over the course of the day. At least it was algae tanks today, not sheetrock or paint, so I'm no messier than I was on a typical day in Dauntless. Or pretty much any other time that Tris saw me.

Still, I brush the dirt off my clothes and wash my face, pausing for a moment to look at my reflection. It will probably always feel strange to do that, after spending so many years in Abnegation, but I do it anyway as I run my fingers through my hair. It's the longest it's ever been in my life, though most people would still call it short.

The walk home passes in a blur, my mind too focused on my destination to notice anything I'm passing. I can feel my nerves building up now that the moment is approaching. It's been so long since I last saw Tris, and I have no idea how she'll react to me.

My heart is hammering by the time I walk out of the stairwell onto our floor. _She's here, somewhere,_ within a hundred yards of me for the first time in a year.

I pause, listening, and it only takes a moment to hear Christina's voice coming from the gathering room. My feet start toward the sound on their own, knowing that Tris will be with her. And then I'm in the doorway, watching, as _she_ moves through the room, getting a tour of the faction. _Our_ faction.

Her back is to me, but I watch her familiar form, and the graceful movements that are so deeply imprinted on my brain. _Tris._

Her hair is shorter than it was when I pulled her from the net her first day in Dauntless, but longer than it was after she cut it in Amity. And if she has any scars left from the device that NUSA attached to her skull, they're hidden beneath the blond strands.

She's a little taller, too, I think, though it's hard to tell from here, without a reference point. I'll know when we're close. The thought sends a surge of adrenaline through me.

Christina leads her toward the game room, but Tris must see me out of the corner of her eyes, because she turns her head, looking directly at me. I'm pretty sure my heart stops.

Time seems to, also, as we stare at each other. I'm too lost in those bluish-gray eyes to register much, but I'm vaguely aware that my mind keeps repeating the same thought over and over. _Beautiful._

Our gazes stay locked as she crosses the room slowly, toward me. It gives my heart plenty of time to start hammering again.

"Hi," she says softly when we're only a few feet apart.

It takes a second for me to find my voice. "Hi, Tris," I finally manage. It's hard to believe that such a simple statement could contain so much meaning.

But a gesture can contain even more. That becomes abundantly clear when she steps closer and wraps her arms around my waist. She presses her ear to my chest, directly over my racing heart. And I freeze.

_This is the way we stood when she pulled me out of the simulation._

Pain sears through me at the comparison – a reminder of every time I've hurt her. But it's also the way we stood at Al's funeral, the first time I ever touched my lips to her, and on another half a dozen occasions after that. It's the way we comforted each other, and loved each other. And it sends electricity coursing through every part of my body.

The good associations finally outweigh the bad, and I wrap my own arms around her, pulling her tightly against me. My face drops into her hair, and I breathe her incredible scent for the first time in _far_ too long.

This, right here, is _everything_. I didn't dare to hope I would have this again, however briefly. And now that I do, I hold her as if it's the last chance I'll ever have, letting her closeness slowly refuel my soul.

Christina's voice finally breaks through my reverie. "Four." Something about her tone makes me think it's not the first time she's called me.

My entire body tenses, not wanting anything or anyone to interrupt this moment, but I lift my head just enough to look at her.

"Ten minutes," she says, somewhat apologetically.

The words take a few seconds to register. Christina thinks I should go for a walk? I have no idea why. I'm not making Tris uncomfortable, am I? _Oh God, maybe I am._

But the worry only lasts until I start to pull away. It's obvious from the way Tris tries to hang on that she doesn't want to leave this embrace any more than I do. Still, Christina has steered me well on too many occasions for me to ignore her now, so I reluctantly detangle myself from Tris.

"I'll be back soon," I tell her, and then I'm heading down the stairs, going for a walk for who knows what reason. Maybe I'll figure it out on the way.

* * *

_**A/N: Yay, Tris and Tobias are finally in the same scene! The next chapter is basically Chapter 46 ("Reconciliation") from "Determinant," but told from Tris' point of view. I'm not going to repeat all of the chapters from "Determinant" that way, but I feel I need that particular chapter to transition to the rest of this story. "Prior Rings" will then continue to other scenes that are either hinted at in "Determinant" or are new.**_

_**Hopefully, I'll post that chapter by Thursday. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this one. :-)**_


	23. Chapter 23: Tris - Reconciliation

****_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and **_**to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_** As I mentioned in my last author's note, this update is Chapter 46 from "Determinant," but from Tris' POV. **_****_**I'm not going to repeat all of the chapters from "Determinant" like this, but I felt this particular one was needed to transition to the rest of this story. It proved to be a lot of fun to write, though it was a bear to edit because it's so long. If I missed any typos, please let me know. I made a bunch of little changes after Rosalie reviewed it, so I might have introduced some mistakes. **_

* * *

**Chapter 23: Tris – Reconciliation**

I'm still in the gathering room, standing near the door, when Tobias comes back from his walk. His gaze catches mine, and abruptly I know that I'm ready to talk to him. I've spent months simultaneously dreading and hoping for this conversation – and imagining all the possible ways it could go. But in this moment I know that regardless of how it turns out, I need to have it _now_.

"Can we go somewhere private to talk?" I ask him.

His eyes shift briefly to Christina with a curious expression, before he answers. "Yeah." His voice is deep.

He hesitates for just a second before taking my arm, the brush of his fingers sending a tingling feeling all through me. It's the same sensation that I've _always_ felt with him, and I can't help but wonder if he feels it too. He used to, I think.

I'm a little surprised when he leads me to his apartment. Given what happened the last time we were there, I didn't expect him to pick that particular spot, but maybe it's just as well. We can't ignore our history.

He smiles faintly as he gestures for me to enter first, and I do, looking around curiously. It's very different than the last time I was here, when it was packed with items to help Tobias survive after he planned to go factionless.

One thing is still the same, though. The mattress that we slept on _that_ night is still in exactly the same place. He never even got a bedframe for it. I let my eyes linger on it, smiling a little at the memory. Realistically, I'm not sure I would have changed it, either, if this had been my room.

The thought makes me feel a little warmer inside, and I turn back to face him. "How are you, Tobias?" I know it's a loaded question, but we have to start somewhere.

"Okay," he answers in a carefully neutral voice. "Busy."

The words remind me of what Cara said earlier, and I feel that same clenching in my stomach at how well she seems to know him now. _Better than I do._

"Cara indicated that," I say, nodding as if it's just a statement of fact. But I watch his reaction, looking for any sign that he feels more than friendship for her despite what Christina thinks. There's nothing there.

Clearing my throat, I add, "She said they had to take you out of the cooking rotation because you were always busy."

He shrugs, contemplating that. "It's getting better. Amar doesn't need as much therapy as he used to." He gives an awkward half-smile. "And I don't, either. It's now just a session a week for each of us."

He hesitates, looking at me, before he adds, "I've been in a support group for people like me... People who were abused as kids, and who have a…temper…now."

There's another pause before he admits, "It's been helpful…. A lot more than I expected."

I nod, watching him. I wasn't sure if he'd talk about his support program yet, since he may or may not know that Christina told me about it. But it's good that he did. We need to be honest with each other if we're going to find a way to live in the same faction again.

"I'm glad," I tell him simply. His eyes shoot up to mine, and my breath catches at how intensely blue they are in this light.

"How about you?" he asks softly. "How have you been?"

There's no way to sum up the last year in any kind of short answer, so all I do is echo his own description. "Busy."

Something like shame passes over his face, and he rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah…" he says quietly, "I'm sorry I left you with all that, Tris. It wasn't remotely fair."

The statement stirs up too many emotions for me to answer at first, so I just shrug, moving around the apartment a little and looking at things in order to avoid his gaze.

"I understand why you did," I finally say, sighing. I've spent a lot of time thinking about his actions, and the reasons for them, and I no longer blame him for most of them.

My voice is quiet as I continue. "And realistically, if _I'd_ been the one to reach the Control Computer, _you_ might have ended up as president."

He looks startled, but he doesn't answer. And I'm not sure what else to add, so I keep looking at everything he's changed in this room. My eyes stop at the sight of his computer, sitting on a simple metal desk. I wonder if that's where he worked on the photos of my parents – the ones he put in the album he made for me. My heart jumps a little at the thought.

As if to confirm it, I spot a picture on top of his bureau, carefully framed in wood. It's an image of me, though I can't tell when it was taken. Sometime at Dauntless, I assume, since I'm dressed in black and my long hair is flowing behind me. I look fierce in it – angry, even.

"Interesting choice," I say as I pick it up to get a closer look, curious why he would select a photo where I look irate rather than happy. Maybe it's all he could find. "When was this taken?"

He hesitates, and I instantly know that there's a story behind this that he's reluctant to share. But after a moment, he does, his voice a bit rough.

"When you were leaving Dauntless, after Lauren's fear landscape."

I turn to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. Out of all the time we spent together, I can't imagine why he would want to frame that particular memory.

"It's a reminder," he says slowly, obviously sensing my confusion. "I really messed up that day, and you were furious with me. And I was terrified when I realized you'd left the compound. I didn't know what would happen – if Eric would figure out you were Divergent, or if you'd be kicked out of Dauntless, or if you'd ever forgive me. Or if I'd even see you again. I didn't see how things could possibly work out…. But just a few hours later, you were safe, and you called me your boyfriend for the first time."

He pauses, his eyes meeting mine again before he adds, "It reminds me that there's always hope, no matter how bad things seem."

The words are more than a little startling. I've never heard his perspective on that day before, and I certainly never thought of it as paralleling our current situation. But it's obvious that he's spent a lot of time thinking about both.

"Tobias," I say softly, "what do you expect to happen here?"

He gives a strangled laugh. "Tris, I don't have any expectations." He swallows hard. "I screwed up. Badly. I don't have words to describe how sorry I am. And I know I don't have a right to expect _anything_ at this point."

There's a kind of desperation in his expression as he continues. "But what I'd _like_ is for us to find a way forward. I've missed you." His voice breaks a little on the admission, and it breaks something inside me the same way. "And I'd like to be around you in whatever way you're willing to grant."

For several more seconds, we just stare at each other as multiple emotions try to push their way out of my chest and into my throat all at once. I finally have to turn away to hide the tears that are threatening to spill down my cheeks.

"You're sorry for what, exactly?" I manage to ask, my voice trembling.

"I think that's pretty obvious, Tris," he answers sternly.

But I shake my head. "I don't think it is," I tell him honestly, forcing myself to turn back to face him again. He needs to understand this.

I take a deep breath, drawing strength from somewhere inside me. "The thing is, my ribs healed a long time ago. But what continued to hurt after that – what's hurt every day since then – is your absence." It's even harder than I expected to finally admit this, but I continue anyway.

"You left. You didn't even let me say goodbye. I didn't know if you were okay. Sometimes, I didn't even know if you were alive. And I had no idea if I'd ever see you again."

The tears refuse to be held back any longer, but I keep looking at him as they start flowing down my cheeks.

"That hurt, Tobias. That hurt _a lot_."

He stares at me, clearly upset by my words and uncertain how to respond. And in this moment, I feel like he should be. It's hard to move forward after a year of pain.

"I didn't know what else to do," he says softly. It's obvious he means it, but the response makes me angry.

"You could have _talked_ to me," I all but shout, finally voicing what I've thought so many times over the months. "You could have asked what _I_ wanted. Don't you think I had a right to be part of that decision?"

"No," he says flatly. That isn't the answer I expected, and my eyes snap to his, startled. He meets my gaze levelly as he continues. "You would have forgiven me. I saw that in your face as you were blacking out from what I did to you. And that was _not_ what either of us needed."

I open my mouth to protest – I'm not sure against which part, exactly – but he doesn't give me a chance.

Holding up his hand, his palm toward me, he continues forcefully. "No, listen to me, Tris! What I did was _not_ okay. It doesn't matter what triggered it. It doesn't matter that I was aiming at my father, and you just got in the way. The point is I got angry, and I got violent, and I _hurt_ you. And that is _not acceptable_."

I can feel my brow furrowing. _Of course_ the circumstances matter. Tobias would never have hit me if I hadn't gotten into the middle of his fight with Marcus. How can he think that's not relevant? But again, he doesn't give me a chance to respond.

"Think about it this way," he says, looking desperate for me to understand. "Would it have been okay if I went after Uriah for kissing you, and hit you in the process? Or if God forbid, sometime down the road, we had a screaming baby keeping us up for days at a time and I went after him? Where's the line? What's a 'good' excuse?"

My stomach squirms uncomfortably. I can't imagine Tobias ever losing his temper over things like that. And yet…. I remember the jealousy on his face when I held Will's arm on the pathway to the fear landscape. And the way I didn't want to sit on Uriah's lap because of how Tobias might respond. And how he grabbed my arm at times to keep me from leaving while we were arguing. And there's no denying that I often worried about his shifting moods.

Is he right that he might have snapped at some other event if the fight with Marcus had never happened?

His voice softens slightly as he adds, "Life is stressful. It's full of triggers. I can't react by losing control and hurting the people I love. That's not the person I want to be." He takes a step closer, his gaze willing me to understand.

"I need to be able to respect myself. I need to be a good person. A good son, and brother, and friend. And maybe someday a boyfriend again. And a husband. And a father." The squirming in my stomach increases at the last three – does he imagine those with _me_, or with someone else?

His eyes are fierce on mine as he adds, "And _none_ of those start with me breaking your ribs and then continuing with my life like it didn't happen."

I'm breathing hard now as for the first time, I truly understand why he left. He wasn't just punishing himself, as I've thought for a year. He was trying to overcome the inner demons that ruled his life. He was trying to free himself of them forever.

"Are you that kind of person now?" I ask him, my voice tight.

"I'm a lot closer." He scratches the back of his neck, obviously considering his words. "Life is a process. We never reach perfection, but we should always keep working toward it." The comment reminds me of our faction manifesto.

He gives me a small smile before adding, "I'll probably always have a temper, but if we were back in Philadelphia again now, back in that same situation, I _know_ I wouldn't hurt you. I might still deck Marcus. I'm not a Saint. But I wouldn't lose control like I did before."

It's hard to know what to say to that, and I find myself just nodding a bit awkwardly. Eventually, I come back with, "Well, Marcus certainly deserved to be decked."

The corners of Tobias' mouth lift. "That he did."

I'm silent for a moment as I try to fit these new realizations into everything I've thought and assumed for so long. "You still could have called, you know," I finally mutter.

He gives a little nod. "I thought about it," he admits, and I look up, surprised. "Quite a few times. But Christina said you almost never asked about me. I figured you must have moved on…." His mouth tightens in pain before he masks it. "And after everything I'd put you through…I wasn't going to interfere if you were healing."

My eyes drop to the floor as I shake my head rapidly. This isn't something I can say while I'm looking at him, but I know it needs to be said.

"I didn't move on," I whisper. "It just hurt too much to ask."

He breathes in sharply, almost a gasp, and I realize that possibility never occurred to him. He's silent for a very long time as he absorbs that reality. His voice is rough when he finally answers.

"I never wanted to hurt you, Tris." The pain in his tone echoes what I'm feeling, and it makes my stomach tighten even more. "I was so determined not to. But it seems to be all I did."

It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in, and then I'm shaking my head again. That's not right. _It's not._ He did hurt me, yes, but that's certainly not _all_ he did. He needs to know that.

"No," I say fiercely, struggling for words. "That's not true." I take a deep breath, somehow finding enough strength to look up again. He meets my gaze, his eyes intense.

"It's not true _at all_. I didn't miss you because I'm some kind of masochist. I missed you because of _you_. Because you stood with me over and over through everything we faced. You saved my life – more than once, I might add – and you helped me recover from the horrible things I had to do during the war…."

For a moment, my thoughts freeze on an image of him limping down a long hallway in Erudite. He turned himself in to save me, and he suffered so much for it. And all I did was betray him again afterwards.

"You tried so hard to protect me," I say, my throat tight. "And you always loved me, even when I didn't deserve it. Even when _I_ hurt _you_."

He looks more than a little skeptical, but I continue anyway.

"And before you left, you gave me a gift of sorts…. You let me see myself from your perspective. I thought I was this uninteresting, plain girl…."

He laughs as if he can't even imagine that, and a wry smile forms on my lips. "Don't get me wrong," I mutter, "I knew I had some strengths, but I honestly couldn't figure out why someone like _you_ would want to be with someone like _me_."

I bite my lip, shrugging a little. "But you showed me why, and it changed the way I view myself. It made me feel strong and capable and worthwhile, and that helped me get through everything I had to tackle in this past year."

My mind turns to Brian Larimer, and to how I was only able to handle what I did that day by thinking about Tobias. I would never have been able to save my brother if it weren't for him.

This time, I'm the one who steps closer. "It would have been easy to be away from you if _all_ you ever did was hurt me. It was hard because you've done _so much more than that_. Because you were worth missing."

I close my eyes for a moment as image after image flits before them – of everything that Tobias has ever meant to me, and everything he has helped me get through, whether he was there or not. It's a _very_ long list.

Looking at him now, I can see the love and the aching in his eyes, and the way he tortures himself when he shouldn't. He needs to know what he's worth.

"I don't think you ever believed it," I say softly, trying to convey the full truth of my words in my tone, "but I loved you as much as you loved me, and for a lot of the same reasons."

He stands completely still, his expression as stunned as I've ever seen it and his breathing ragged.

"Do you really mean that?" he asks, his voice barely audible. A weight drops through my stomach as I realize how little affection I must have really shown for him to doubt it this much. I allowed my insecurities about myself to hurt him as well as me.

"Yes," I tell him firmly, holding his gaze unflinchingly. If I can only convince him of one thing in my life, it should be this – of how worthwhile he truly is.

He takes a step closer, his eyes filled with more emotion than I think I've ever seen. "Do you…do you still feel that way?" he whispers.

Panic sets in at the question, because I know that my answer will define how we move forward. And that it will change the rest of my life one way or another….

I know what I want, of course. I've known since practically the day I met him. But it terrifies me. _It was so hard to lose him._ If I allow us to get back together, will I be setting myself up for that to happen again? Even worse this time?

The floor is suddenly fascinating, and I stare at it as I try to find enough strength to answer. And then I say some of the most difficult words I've ever spoken.

"Feelings like that don't go away easily."

A sound catches in his throat, and I hear the movement as he steps quickly toward me. But I don't look up until his hands are framing my face, his fingers tracing my cheeks and running through my hair. His eyes are filled with tenderness as he tucks a few loose strands behind my ears.

"No, they don't," he murmurs.

My throat is too dry to speak, so I just let him continue.

"Tris, I've messed so many things up…. If you need time to figure out how you want to move forward, I completely understand. If you want to try just being friends, I'll find a way to make that work. I swear I won't make things hard on you, no matter what."

He swallows. "But if there's _any_ chance you want to give us another try…you should know that I still love you." My heart beats even faster as I stare at him. "I always will. And I will _never_ leave you like that again."

It's impossible to squeeze words out through the lump in my throat, so I just brush my fingers lightly along his jaw. The contact feels _right_. "I love you, too," I somehow manage to whisper.

But the words instantly fill me with doubt. Love is so connected with pain for me at this point, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to handle it if we get back together and fail again.

Biting my lip, I ask, "But is that enough? It's not like a lack of love was ever our problem."

Tobias cups my chin with one hand, lifting it gently so I have to meet his gaze again. "That's true," he admits. "But I have to say that still being in love…seems like a pretty good starting point for rebuilding a relationship."

A smile tugs at his mouth, and despite the anxiety that's gripping me, I can feel one starting on my lips, too, as his words sink in. _He's right._ We clearly haven't gotten over each other much at all, and it would be absurd to ignore that in some vain hope that it will save me from future pain. I _have_ to give this another try. I owe it to both of us.

I nod, just a little, my eyes still holding his. They're dark and filled with love and hope and desire, and they draw me irresistibly to him. I tilt my head up, rising onto my toes at the same moment he leans down, and our lips meet in the middle.

The kiss is beyond amazing, filled with everything that ever tied us together as well as the promise of what _can_ be. My hands move through his hair, holding him close, while his fingers trail down my back, making every part of my body tingle in response. By the time his hands come to a stop on my hips, my pulse is racing wildly. I never want this to end.

But at some point, we pull apart to breathe. Tobias lowers his forehead to rest on mine, and we stand there, our arms still encircling each other, sharing the same air.

"I think," I whisper, "that we should try dating. We never really had a chance to do that."

"Okay," he says immediately, agreeing so quickly I can't help smiling. "I'm available right now, in fact. Does now work for you?"

I laugh, pulling back just far enough to meet his eyes. "Saturday, Tobias," I tell him. "You can spend the day showing me everything that's changed in the city."

He nods, but his eyebrows scrunch together in thought. "That'll take a lot more than a day…" he says a bit doubtfully.

My smile widens. "That's kind of the point," I murmur.

It takes a half-second for him to get what I mean, and then a grin spreads across his face. He leans down, kissing my forehead softly as his arms pull me close again. I wrap my own around his waist. There's no reason to move, so we don't. It's one of the best moments of my life.

* * *

_**A/N: Okay, that was the second-longest chapter in the book, at least so far. The rest of the story will be original, rather than repeats of "Determinant," though there will be references to events that happened in that book. Also, I'll add the details of the Dauntless date that's briefly described in that book.**_

_**Hopefully, I'll post the next chapter by the end of the weekend, though it depends on a lot of factors with the holidays coming. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this one. Your reviews always encourage me to write as much as I possibly can. :-)  
**_

_**P.S. I posted the faction manifesto to my "Determinant" story, so if you're curious to read it, you can find it there.**_


	24. Chapter 24: Zeke - Fun and Games

******_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and **_**to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_** This chapter overlaps part of Chapter 47 from "Determinant" but then skips ahead. It's my first try ever at writing from Zeke's POV. I hope you enjoy it!**_******

**Chapter 24: Zeke – Fun and Games**

When I get home from work, Shauna is in the gathering room with Cara and Christina.

"They're talking," she tells me as I give her a quick kiss and plop onto the sofa closest to her.

I don't have to ask who she means – I haven't forgotten that Tris was due to arrive this afternoon.

"That's a good thing, right?" I ask uncertainly. "I mean, they have to talk at some point, so it's better to just get it over with, isn't it?"

She shrugs, looking nervous. I kind of know how she feels. Four's tough, and he can certainly take care of himself, but he's not exactly experienced in the art of love. And Tris gets to him in ways that no one else does.

"How long have they been at it?" I ask, looking between the three women.

Christina glances at her watch. "Almost half-an-hour." She sounds anxious, but excited too. I know she wants the two of them to get back together as much as the rest of us do, though she never admits it. It's about the only thing her Candor instincts let her hide.

"Mmm." My lips press together. "Has there been any yelling?"

"No," Christina answers, studying her fingernails. "At least not loud enough for us to hear from _all_ the way over here."

"I wouldn't let her eavesdrop," Cara quips, giving her friend a caustic look. The comment makes me laugh. We Pedrads have a long history of successfully overhearing conversations, but even I wouldn't listen to something _that_ private. And not just because Four would kill me if he found out about it.

"Well, if they don't come out for dinner," I offer, "we can always send a sacrificial lamb to knock on the door. Like Uri."

Christina snorts, and Shauna smacks my arm.

"What about me?" my brother asks, stepping into the room with his usual perfect timing.

"We were wondering if you had dinner ready yet," I answer, deadpan.

His eyes widen in panic. "It's not my turn tonight," he says quickly, looking at the others for confirmation. "Is it?" It's not, I'm sure, but he's so easy to play with….

"_Yes_, it _is_," Shauna insists, her tone conveying just the right level of irritation. "Are you telling me we'll have to _wait_ while you make it now?"

"And on Tris' first day here, too," Christina scoffs, adding a nice edge of disappointment. "You have _got_ to start paying more attention to the schedule, Uriah!"

As usual, it's Cara who gives the joke away. "You can smell the casseroles cooking, you know," she says, rolling her eyes at Uri. "Seriously, just sniff the air."

I suppose it's my own fault for not noticing what Uri had in his hands when I started the joke, but I still jump when he throws his lunchbox at me. I catch it automatically, but the latch unlocks from the movement, and the lid flies open, allowing the dirty dishes to fling themselves at me.

"Oops," my brother says calmly as I stand, trying to brush the crumbs and sauces from my entire front. I leave his possessions scattered across the sofa and floor as I launch myself at him, chasing him into the dining hall before managing to tackle him to the floor.

We're rolling around in a pile of limbs when Amar comes in. We stop immediately, since he's still hyper-sensitive to violence, but he just raises an eyebrow at us, shaking his head a little.

"Lousy technique, Zeke," he comments drily. "Your elbows were way too far out."

Uri laughs as he hops to his feet, offering me a hand. "See?" he smirks. "I told you I'm a better fighter than you are."

"In your dreams, bro. In your dreams…." But I let him pull me up, and then we go into the kitchen with Cara to help get the food.

We're just setting the last items on the table when the clamor starts.

"Tris!" Uriah and Amar call at the same time, followed almost immediately by the others. I'm at the end of the table closest to the door, so when I turn I get a good view of her and Four. They're holding hands, and it makes me grin more than I expected. But I don't say anything about that yet.

Instead, I cross quickly to them, pulling Tris away from Four and into my arms for a sound hug. I really am glad to see her. Everyone else is, too, of course, and they make that clear as they crowd around, embracing her and talking all at once.

Uri ends up being the last one to reach her, and I can't help narrowing my eyes at him as he throws his arms around her. He's my brother, and I love him, but if he messes this up for Four, I'm going to have to kill him.

Fortunately, he decides to approach this like so many other things – as a joke. He pulls back from the hug, winks at Four, and then leans forward like he's about to kiss Tris. She jerks away sharply, obviously wanting nothing to do with his lips. And I laugh – hard. So does Uri.

"Still with that death wish," Four growls, stepping closer to them. But there's a hint of amusement in his expression.

Uri lifts his hands in a classic gesture of surrender as he grins at Tris. "Hey, don't worry," he exclaims, "I'm not dumb. I picked up on your subtle signals last time."

Turning to Four, he adds, "What can I say? She wants to marry me and have my babies."

My lovely girlfriend snorts beside me. "Yeah," she says, "as long as they're blue-eyed and have four fears." I laugh, but I also automatically lean down and look over her shoulder, trying to see what she must have glimpsed from the height of her wheelchair. She sees interesting things from that angle at times. Such as right now….

The view shows Four and Tris holding hands again.

Christina obviously sees it too, because she smirks and comments loudly, "That didn't take long."

It's a typical Candor statement, but it's too much, too soon for the two former Abnegation. Tris starts to turn red, and Four begins to stiffen, and I know it's time to head this off before it gets ugly.

"And yet," I state just as loudly as Christina, drawing the others' attention, "it's long overdue."

As everyone looks at me, I give Four an encouraging clap on the back while smiling at Tris. It seems to relax them both a bit.

Immediately, the rest of the group erupts into calls of agreement. We were all hoping for this, really. Even Uri, I think. He wants Tris to be happy, and he knows that Four is the one who can give her that.

Surprisingly, though, Amar has the strongest reaction. Placing one hand on each of their shoulders, he declares, "Now, that's a sight for sore eyes." His smile seems to consume his entire face. "You two belong together."

That's the second time today he's seemed more like his old self, and I've got to say, it's nice to see that. It's even nicer when he does it a third time.

Taking George's arm, he turns toward the table and firmly states, "So, I hear there's food. _Let's eat it._" It's his trainer's voice, the one I haven't heard since I was an initiate years ago, and he's using it to command all of us to leave Four and Tris alone. I can't help grinning in response as I obey the order.

Four and Tris join us, too, both smiling widely. It's strange to see Four that way, but it's a good kind of strange. He's certainly earned this happiness.

* * *

After dinner, Christina drags Tris off to her room, undoubtedly to grill her on the conversation with Four. It's a girl thing, Shauna always says.

But hey, guys can do the same thing, right? So, I grab Four's arm and pull him into the game room to play pool. He doesn't resist at all. He just shrugs and comes along without comment. He _must_ be in a good mood.

"So…" I start as I rack up the balls, "I take it things went well?"

His grin is so wide I don't think he can talk through it. But he nods, a bit sheepishly. They must have kissed or something.

"And you're back together?" Somehow, the smile gets even wider – I didn't think his face could stretch that far. But this time he manages to speak.

"We're going to date."

The words make me a little nervous, since Four has always sucked at dating. But then again, Tris has always been the exception to all the rules for him, so maybe it'll work this time. I nod as I remove the triangle from the pool table and grab a stick.

"You want to break?" I ask him, gesturing at the table.

He hesitates for just a second before grabbing another stick and sending the cue ball smashing into the others. He sinks two balls...that are both striped. _Lucky bastard._

"I guess you're stripes," I mutter.

It's obvious that he doesn't care in the slightest about the game, but he lines up his next shot anyway.

"She wants me to show her everything that's changed in the city," he comments as he shoots. "I'm not quite sure where to start."

"Hmm," I grunt, watching as another striped ball ends up in the pocket. When did Four get good at pool? But it's not like we're really here for the game, so I focus my attention on figuring out what type of date to recommend for my buddy. Something he won't screw up….

"Well, there's a new bar," I start as he takes yet another shot…and sinks yet another ball. He narrows his eyes at me and shakes his head firmly.

"I'm _not_ taking her to a bar, Zeke. I have _never_ had a good date in _any_ bar. _Ever._" I laugh.

"Yeah, I guess you have a point there." I scratch the side of my head as I try to come up with other ideas, watching as the fifth striped ball vanishes. Am I getting a turn in this game?

"They're going to be opening the amusement park back up soon," I offer. He looks up at that, his eyes lit, and I suspect he has some kind of attachment to that place.

"When?"

I shrug. "A couple of weeks, I think."

He nods thoughtfully. "That'll work for a later date, then. But I need something for this Saturday. Something really good…."

"You should ask Uri," I tell him before I have a chance to think through it. My brother tends to keep track of all forms of entertainment in this city. But judging by the glare that Four directs at me, he's not interested in hearing that.

"I am not going to ask _Uriah_ how to woo _Tris_," he snarls. I can't help chuckling at his wording.

"_Woo?_ Seriously? You've been back together for what…an hour? I think it's a bit early to be talking marriage."

I expect him to be embarrassed – to say that it's an Abnegation term for dating – but he doesn't. He does turn a bit red, but he holds his ground, looking at me levelly and lifting a shoulder as if to say, "So what?"

"Obviously, I'm not going to ask her yet," he comments, "but that's where this is going." His gaze is steady. "It's where it was going last time, and I wouldn't open that door again if I weren't just as serious now."

I just stare. _He really means it._

"I'm not playing with her, Zeke," he adds more quietly.

"No, I know that, man..." Four is so far from being a player that I can't even imagine the concept. But hell, I still haven't proposed to Shauna, and we've been together for a year and a half without a break. How can he be that sure already?

"I just didn't realize you were willing to admit that, yet," I finally add.

He shrugs again, sliding the pool stick up and down between his hands as he says, "Well, I guess I am."

We're both silent while I watch him sink the last two striped balls, one after the other.

"I sort of understand," I comment as he begins lining up his shot at the eight ball. He stops to look at me.

"Shauna thinks it took me forever to realize that she liked me, and that I liked her." Four raises an eyebrow, and I know he must have thought the same thing. "But I knew it for a long time before I asked her out." I give him a half-smile. "It's just that we'd known each other for years, and I always kind of knew that if we dated, either she'd be the one…or we'd blow it spectacularly."

I shrug. "And I didn't want to lose her. So, I waited until I thought we were both ready for something serious."

Four nods slowly, his expression contemplative.

"I think I'll take her ice-skating," he comments, a bit out of the blue.

Both of my eyebrows lift at that. "Do you know how to skate?" I ask.

"No." He lines up the eight ball again, adding, "Corner pocket."

"Do you think she does?"

"Probably not." The ball drops perfectly into the right hole, and the cue ball rolls to a slow stop in the middle of the table.

"But sometimes it's more fun to do something new," he says as he grabs the triangle and starts racking the balls up for another game. His lips tug into a smile. "And I kind of like the idea of catching her when she falls."

* * *

Meals are much more interesting with Tris here, I conclude over the course of the next few days. It's not even just that she brings up new subjects, or asks questions that get everyone talking. It's the way she affects the whole group.

It's most obvious with Four, of course. He's the happiest I've ever seen him – practically giddy compared with his stone-like instructor persona. But it's there with the rest of us, too.

Christina clearly loves having her best friend nearby again. And Amar seems more like himself, which in turn thrills George. Even Uri is more relaxed; he's settled firmly into friend mode, and he seems genuinely content with that role.

Shauna likes her, too. In fact, watching them together, it's hard to believe that my beautiful girlfriend ever distrusted Tris for being Divergent. Fortunately for both of them, Tris doesn't seem to hold a grudge about that. I guess that's where it's helpful to have a focus on forgiveness built into our faction manifesto.

I'm relieved on Saturday night to see that Four's date clearly went well. The two of them come back hand-in-hand, talking quietly and smiling more than I've ever seen from Four. His facial muscles will probably be sore tomorrow from the unusual exercise. But I'm glad to see he overcame his curse of "the bad dates."

_Skating._ Who'd have thought it?

As I close my eyes Sunday night, thinking back on everything that's happened in the last five days, I realize that things are really good now. I always thought I'd be Dauntless forever, but I have to say I prefer my current life.

Maybe it's time to think about proposing to Shauna.

* * *

_**A/N: This is shaping up to be a long week, with last-minute changes to who is visiting and when, so I'm going to be short on writing time. Because of that, I don't know when I'll be able to post next. In the meantime, though, please take a moment to review this chapter. That would really brighten the week for me!  
**_

_**And happy holidays to everyone! :-)**_


	25. Chapter 25: Tobias - His Family

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and **_**_**to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_****_ I'm sorry this chapter took a little longer to post than I wanted - my computer died, and I'm having to work from a temporary one until we can figure out something more permanent. At least I had my files backed up, so I didn't lose anything I'd written, but it's been difficult to access email to get Rosalie's comments. Sigh._**

**Chapter 25: Tobias – His Family**

A very large part of me thinks it's too soon to bring Tris to this dinner. She hasn't even been back for a full week, and I'm having her spend time with my _mother_? After everything that Evelyn did to her in the past?

But if I want others to accept that I've grown and changed in the last year, I have to extend the same credit to my mother. She's worked as hard as I have, and I do know that she regrets how she treated Tris the first time around.

Besides, I feel like I owe it to Margaret. My sister has been waiting for _hundreds of days_, as she firmly reminded me last week, to see Tris again. She wants to get to know the woman who saved her from Eric, and then showed Amanda Ritter's video to the whole city…. And it's hard to deny a ten-year-old the chance to be around her personal hero.

So, I try to hide my nerves as Tris and I walk to Candor, our hands laced together in the brisk afternoon air. We could take the bus, I know, but I've spent so many hours treading the pavement in this city that it's instinctive to go on foot at this point. And Tris doesn't seem to mind. If anything, I think she prefers it – she was probably cooped up more than she liked in Philadelphia.

"Are you sure I won't be intruding by coming to this?" she asks, sounding as uncertain as I feel. It's an opportunity to delay the "reunion" a few weeks if I want, but I already know I won't take it. The Dauntless in me would rather just face this head-on.

"You're definitely welcome there," I tell her. Smiling a little, I add, "Though I can't promise it won't be awkward at first. It is my mother, after all."

Tris laughs – a cute little burst of anxiety mixed with amusement.

"All right," she responds after a moment. "But you have to come to lunch with Caleb and Anna sometime in return."

I nod, thinking about that. The last time I saw Anna was when I returned her ring, some four months ago. That was a rough day. It was almost like losing Tris all over again to part with that band, but it was the right thing to do.

"That seems like a fair exchange," I finally agree.

A smile curves Tris' mouth. "I don't know about _fair_," she comments, her tone turning playful. "They both like you a lot more than I think Evelyn likes me."

My eyebrow arches skeptically at her. Given everything that's happened, I find it unlikely that Caleb is my fan. But Tris insists, "They _do_. Really."

Her expression turns serious again as a memory seems to intrude, and I watch her bite her lip. Her voice is quiet when she continues. "Caleb once told me that you helped him become a better person." That's a startling revelation, and I'm silent while I absorb the thought.

She clears her throat. "And Anna told me that you cared more about me than I thought. And that I should talk to you." A small smile forms on her face as she adds, "And give you a chance."

Warmth spreads through me at the words. After what I did to Tris, I didn't expect to ever receive her family's approval. And given my own childhood, I didn't expect to _care_ whether or not I did. But in this moment, I realize that I do.

My instinct, though, is still to deflect. "Well," I mutter, "she might be a bit biased." After all, she's bound to appreciate the person who returned her wedding ring.

To my surprise, Tris laughs. "Tobias, _everyone_ in the country is biased toward you." She shakes her head a little. "Trust me – Anna is more neutral than most, since she never heard your broadcast. She likes you for more reasons than that."

For a moment, I'm just confused. "I wasn't referring to the broadcast," I explain.

It doesn't seem to help. Tris looks at me blankly, clearly having no idea what else I might mean, and I stare back, trying to figure out why she doesn't understand. And gradually it comes to me. _Anna didn't tell her about the ring._

It never even remotely occurred to me that she wouldn't.

My gaze shifts ahead, to where Candor is now visible. There's no time for a full discussion on this subject, and for all I know, there's a good reason for Anna's silence. Maybe she decided she doesn't want to pass the ring on to Tris after all. Or maybe something happened to it after I returned it.

Or maybe she wants it to be a surprise for Tris down the road….

I'm not going to restart my old habit of keeping secrets from Tris, but at the same time, it seems wrong to say anything until I at least talk to Anna. So, I pull on my inner Zeke to come up with an excuse.

Holding a straight face and an even voice, I comment, "I meant she might be biased by my dazzling good looks."

Tris can't help laughing at that. She probably doesn't really buy it, though given how much time I've been spending with Zeke and Uriah, she might. But either way, she at least seems to be willing to let it pass for now.

"Well," she says conspiratorially, leaning close enough to bump her shoulder into me, "I might be a little biased by that, too."

* * *

The first half of dinner is as awkward as I expected. It doesn't help that Margaret's adoptive parents are Candor to the core, so they insist on pointing out the strain that the rest of us are trying to ignore – as well as every attempt we make to bypass it.

To give my mother credit, she does _try_. She calls Tris by her preferred name, instead of Beatrice, and she engages in Abnegation small talk as if she thinks that will make Tris feel more comfortable. She even says nice things about what it was like to work with Anna. Tris smiles at that, though I can tell that it's because Anna didn't reciprocate the sentiment – not because she actually appreciates the words.

Margaret, in the meantime, chats about how the city has changed as a result of Amanda Ritter's video, and how glad she is that Tris showed everyone the truth. It's a very Candor attitude…until she talks about how much safer it is to be Divergent now. _That_ catches Tris' attention, and we have the first real conversation of the night as we discuss what it was like to hide in the faction of the honest and how Margaret feels about the new options she has available in life these days.

Tris opens up even more when my sister asks about life in the rest of the country. My mother joins in then, too, and we end up having an interesting discussion about government and politics and the challenges of getting people to change. It spreads a new type of warmth through me to have this kind of family conversation with the people I love most. I wonder what it would have been like to grow up with this.

When we finally leave, Margaret gives Tris a genuinely affectionate hug before doing the same with my mother and then me.

"Don't lose her again," she whispers in my ear, and I can't help smiling in response. It's nice to have my sister truly care about my girlfriend.

"I won't," I murmur into her hair before releasing her, and she nods seriously at me. Clearly, she plans to hold me to that promise.

Evelyn walks out with us, and I'm instantly nervous again. She obviously wants to talk to Tris a little more without Margaret or her adoptive parents around to hear, and I know why. It's valid, and necessary, but it's hard to trust that my mother will handle the conversation well. Her history isn't exactly great that way.

"Dinner was very enjoyable," Evelyn begins, her voice somewhat stiff. "I'm glad you joined us, Be…Tris."

"I was glad to come," Tris responds in her polite Abnegation tone. The exchange makes me grit my teeth against all the awkwardness that's hiding just beneath the surface.

My mother clears her throat before adding, "Margaret has been wanting to spend time with you ever since you saved her from Eric." It's the transition into what I know is coming, and I'm glad that Tris doesn't respond – she just gives Evelyn time to continue on her own. It takes a moment.

"I never thanked you for that," she finally murmurs, "and I should have. She looks down, her face largely hidden in the dark night air. "I didn't thank you for saving Tobias' life, either, though I knew about that, too."

She stops walking and faces Tris directly, taking a deep breath. "I want to apologize. You never did anything to deserve the way I treated you. I was…in a very dark place at that time, but that's not an excuse. I was petty and jealous and…awful to you, and it wasn't right. I'm sorry for that."

We're all silent for a few seconds before Evelyn adds, "I don't expect you to forgive me today – or ever, necessarily – but I wanted to tell you that. And to say that…I hope there's some chance we can start fresh."

Tris hesitates, and I can see her biting her lip in the dim light. She's forgiven some enormous wrongs in her young life, between me and Caleb and Peter, and it might be too much to ask her to accept my mother's apology, too.

But her eyes turn to me with a thoughtful expression, and slowly she nods. Turning back to Evelyn, she speaks softly. "I'd like that."

* * *

We walk my mother back to her home before continuing on to ours. It's much colder now that night has fallen – cold enough that we seem to be the only ones outside. But it's also beautiful, with the full moon clearly visible in a cloudless sky. I watch Tris in its light as we walk together, my gloved hand holding her arm gently.

We're a few blocks from our faction when I pull her to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The need to touch her has been building up all evening and has reached the point of being overwhelming, so I remove my gloves, shoving them into my pockets before allowing my fingers to trace her cheekbones.

"You're amazing," I murmur, sliding my hands lightly through her hair. "You know that, right?"

She doesn't have a chance to answer before I tilt her head up and bring my lips to hers. It's a sweet, delicate kiss.

"Thank you for giving my mother another chance," I add when we draw far enough apart.

She smiles a little. "I'm glad she wanted one," she says quietly. The corners of my mouth lift in response as I drop my forehead to rest on hers. "And…." Her voice gets even softer. "I'm glad to see that she's trying to be the mother you deserve."

And as I did earlier, I feel warmth spreading inside me at the thought of having a real family. At the thought of _deserving_ one. And especially at the thought of it including Tris.

"We've both worked on our relationship," I tell her, leaning down to kiss her again. My lips are still brushing hers as I add, "It's been kind of nice."

I can feel her smile against my mouth before she pulls back far enough to meet my eyes. She caresses my cheek with a gloved hand.

"I love you, Tobias," she whispers, and it's as if everything good in the world is pulled into that phrase. I will _never_ get used to hearing her say that.

My mouth fits itself to hers again, more deeply this time, as my hands move down her back and hold her to me. I breathe her in, letting all of the incredible feelings that go with her scent fill me until there are almost no words left in my brain.

"I love you, too." It's the only thing I'm capable of saying in that moment, but that's fine. It's the only thing I ever _want_ to say.

_**A/N: Please take a moment to review this chapter. I'm still fighting the whole temporary computer mess, so it's difficult to write, and I could definitely use your encouragement. Thanks!**_


	26. Chapter 26: Tobias - Her Family

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and **_**_**to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_****_ I'm sorry this chapter took a little longer to post than I wanted - my computer died, and I'm having to work from a temporary one until we can figure out something more permanent. It's frustrating._**

**Chapter 26: Tobias – Her Family**

Tris and I have been back together for a month by the time I'm finally able to join her for lunch with Anna and Caleb. I wasn't intentionally avoiding them before this – but my schedule never seemed to mesh with theirs, particularly since Anna is only in Chicago half the time and in Philadelphia the other half.

Tris knits her fingers with mine, letting the long sleeves of her coat fall over both of our hands as she leads me down Halsted street. It's a route that she's clearly walked recently, judging by the familiar way her eyes move over the sights, but it's strange for me. I haven't traveled this road since I was a child, racing along it after missing the bus to or from school.

It's somewhat surreal to walk it now, as an adult and with Tris by my side, and I find myself stealing glances at her face frequently just to make sure this is real.

When we reach the area where we would turn west if we were heading to Abnegation, we instead go east, moving into a section of the city I've never explored. Eventually, Tris stops in front of a large red brick building that has windows covering most of its front. An obviously new sign hangs over the door.

**Office of Anna Prior**

**Representative of Chicago**

**to the UCA**

According to Tris, this is Anna's home as well as her office. Apparently, she didn't want to live in a faction, since that would cause some people to feel like she was biased, so she renovated a building that no one else was using. It was a wise choice, I think.

As we enter the main lobby, Tris pauses to wipe any dirt off her shoes and to remove her coat, and I follow her movements automatically, feeling the old Abnegation habits emerging. But as I'm hanging my coat on the rack, my attention is drawn to an enormous room on our left. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before, and I find myself moving toward it curiously. Tris smiles as she walks with me.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" she asks. And that's certainly the word. Sculptures of all sizes fill the space, some on pedestals while others rest on the floor. The walls, in the meantime, are adorned with paintings of different styles.

The Abnegation in me still isn't used to decorations, let alone beautiful ones, but _this_ is different. There's something deeply appealing about this array of artwork.

"This building was originally an art gallery," Tris says, "and Anna decided to restore that concept when she renovated it." She gestures at the walls. "She's been acquiring items from Amity and from the UCA."

A grin forms on my face as I spot the painting that Tris made at our class in Amity. That was a thoroughly enjoyable date, though I certainly wouldn't call either of our efforts "fine art." Hers is essentially a very colorful, splotchy version of me as a flower. She created it as a joke, but I have to admit it looks pretty good framed on the wall….

Tris stops in front of an enormous sculpture of a waterfall. "This, and some of the other statues, were apparently here from before NUSA." She runs her fingers lightly down the "water," pausing to gaze at two figures that are standing near where it crashes into a lake. It's a remarkable piece.

"This is where my grandfather proposed."

My eyebrows lift in surprise, and I find myself staring hard at Tris for a second before redirecting my gaze to the statue. Does this mean that Anna finally told her about her wedding ring? That I retrieved it for her?

But if so, Tris doesn't mention that. She gazes fondly at the two forms carved by the lake, standing close to each other with their outstretched hands barely touching. There's something very Abnegation about them.

After a few more seconds, Tris chuckles, low in her throat. "Though I gather his favorite statue was over here…." She leads me to a different part of the room, and I can see a touch of red on her cheeks as she points to another sculpture. It's easy to understand her embarrassment.

The two forms in _this_ piece are doing a lot more than barely touching. It's not completely explicit, but it's certainly not something I expected to see here, and I find myself staring, too shocked to look away. A blush rises up my own face, more than matching Tris' I suspect.

"Um…" I finally say, managing to tear my gaze away. "I think I prefer the first one."

Tris laughs, taking my arm as she escorts me further into the room. "I do, too," she says firmly.

The rest of the artwork is less…provocative, but much of it is thoroughly beautiful, and we spend an enjoyable half-hour looking over it before Caleb arrives.

He stomps his feet and shakes himself off a bit, as if he's trying to clear snow from his body, and I move to one of the many windows to check the weather while he removes his coat and makes his way over to us. Sure enough, a light snow is beginning to fall. It will be a slippery walk home.

"Tobias," Caleb says as he reaches us. To my surprise, he extends his hand Dauntless-style. "It's good to see you again."

I'm not sure whether I'm more startled by the handshake – a gesture that neither of us grew up using – or the words. But I shake his hand anyway, feeling oddly reminded of the one time I exchanged that greeting with his mother.

Caleb smiles at me and then at Tris before embracing her tightly. I try to keep my hands from clenching into fists at the sight. It's one thing to know that they became close again during the last year, but it's another thing to actually see it. Part of me still thinks of Caleb as the traitor who almost killed Tris, and it's more than a little difficult to forgive him for that.

I wonder if he feels the same way about me.

We spend a few more minutes looking through the gallery before we walk together up the stairs to the third floor. Caleb knocks on a heavy wooden door, and it doesn't take long for Anna to answer.

"Come in," she says cheerfully, stepping aside and gesturing us in before she pulls each of her grandchildren into a hug. I freeze when she does the same with me.

"I'm so glad you and Tris worked things out," she murmurs before releasing me.

There's such warmth and honesty in her words that I can't help smiling in response. It's certainly nice to feel welcomed.

The sentiment grows even stronger over the course of our lunch. Anna and I have never spent much time together, but I can see now why she and Tris are so close. They're a lot alike, other than the obvious age difference.

In addition, Anna seems to know how to draw everyone out, asking questions that pull us firmly into the conversation. It's intriguing to see, particularly after growing up in Abnegation. There, everyone tried to hold back in order to let others talk, but the end result was that very little of substance was ever said.

Overall, though, what I enjoy most about the meal is watching the obvious love between Anna and her grandchildren. It was so devastating for Tris to lose her parents, and to have Caleb betray her on top of that. I remember how lost she looked after we escaped from Erudite – when I promised to be her family. And then I broke that promise by leaving her. It's one of my deepest regrets.

Today, as we sit together, talking and laughing and just enjoying each other's company, I feel as if a crucial part of her life has been restored. And it's indescribable to be part of it.

There's a slight lull in the conversation after Anna finishes telling us about a constituent who visited her yesterday. Apparently, he mixed up her last name with her title and thought she was the prior representative of the city. It took her a good ten minutes to convince him there wasn't a new representative he should be talking to.

Still smiling a little from the memory, she turns her attention to me.

"What about you, Tobias?" she asks. "What type of work are you doing these days?" There's such interest in her expression that I know I can't give a quick answer. The thought makes me oddly nervous. I'm not used to such rapt attention.

"I work with new factions," I start, not sure how much she already knows. "I'm on the committee that reviews them and decides if they should be approved or not. And sometimes, if I really like one, I help with their manifesto." The corner of my mouth lifts as I think of the Self-Sufficiency faction from a couple of months ago. It was a bit ironic to help them, given their goal, but I enjoyed it anyway.

"I also work with the city council to ensure that resources are allocated for each new faction, and I help with renovations and setting up any technology they need."

Caleb looks up with interest. "If you ever need help with that, just let me know." He sounds enthusiastic, and I know he means well, so I just nod in response. There's no point in telling him that I'm not ready to spend that much time with him yet.

After a moment, he adds, "Is that the same committee that oversees existing factions?"

"No," I answer with a small shake of my head, "though we meet with them once a month to make sure we're interpreting the manifestos the same way." Glancing between him and Anna, I explain, "They monitor all of the approved factions to make sure they're following the new regulations and are sticking to their manifestos, and we evaluate the new applications. But we're only supposed to approve factions that are different from the existing ones, so we have to make sure we really understand the existing ones."

Tris smiles, looking at me curiously. "What's the most interesting application you've ever reviewed?"

I have to think about that for a bit, since we've seen some pretty strange proposals.

"I'd have to go with the Lake Restoration faction. They wanted to rebuild enough of Lake Michigan to make it look the way it used to from everywhere in the city. But they didn't have a good source of water to use for it, so they planned to make it only ten feet wide and place enormous paintings on the other side of it to mimic the view."

The corner of my mouth tugs up as I remember how dumbfounded they were when Tammy asked how it would look from the top of a skyscraper. They never thought past the ground-level view.

"Did they get approved?" Caleb asks a bit uncertainly, and I chuckle as I shake my head.

"No. Even if they had picked a better solution, we don't approve factions that are based purely on a single project. They need to also include an element of personal growth."

Caleb nods thoughtfully. "That makes sense. All of the original factions are based on that, after all, and your Kaizen faction obviously is, too." For some reason, I stiffen a bit at the mention of my faction. I'm not sure why.

"Were you the first new faction?" Anna asks.

"Yes." I don't elaborate until I see the expression on Tris' face. She seems surprised, and it occurs to me that she should know the history of the faction she's chosen. So, I look at her as I continue.

"We stayed in the bomb shelter at first, after we returned from the mission. But there were too many triggers there for Amar." With a rueful smile, I admit, "And for me, too." My claustrophobia was unmanageable in that tight space without Tris there to give me another focus. "It just didn't work."

"So, we knew we had to move back to the city, but we didn't fit well into any of the original factions." I shake my head a little, remembering our debates on the subject. "There was no way Amar could have handled Dauntless, and Cara didn't want to live there, either. I would have considered Abnegation, but no one else was interested in it. And none of us wanted Candor or Amity." I shrug.

"Cara and George liked the idea of living in Erudite. They said it would be useful to have all the medical equipment nearby for Amar." I hesitate but decide not to say that my support group is there, as well. Tris already knows that, and I'm not sure I want to get into that discussion with Caleb and Anna right now.

Instead, I look away as I add, "But Erudite wasn't an option for me." There's no need to explain why; they all know what happened there. "Besides, I wasn't willing to bring the equipment there. It was right after the war, and Jeanine had barely been ousted, and she still had supporters living there. I wasn't going to bring Suggestibility Serum and broadcasting equipment into the middle of that and risk having the wrong person get ahold of it."

Even Caleb nods in agreement, and it's his faction.

"So, we figured we'd have to live factionless, and I started renovating apartments in a building that I knew of." Again, I debate adding more information but decide against it. Tris, of course, knows that I returned to the building where I'd set up an apartment for myself months earlier – when I planned to leave Dauntless. And she certainly knows why I was attached to it, after the night we spent together there. But the others don't need to know that.

"I wasn't too far into the process before George came up with a better idea. He said that Tori was still fighting to keep the factions, and Evelyn was still insisting on abolishing them, but that they'd both want to help us. So, we could propose a new option if we wanted."

Turning to Caleb, I mention, "Tori is George's sister." His eyes widen in understanding as he realizes why we were in such a unique position to change the faction system, with relatives on both sides willing to cooperate with us.

"So, we spent some time brain-storming and realized that if the existing factions were regulated differently, and if new factions could be created, then maybe we could satisfy both Tori and Evelyn."

The sides of my mouth lift. "It kind of snowballed from there." And it did. We now have fourteen factions in Chicago, plus a system that allows people to live as well factionless as within a faction, if that's what they prefer.

Caleb and Anna sit back, staring at me appraisingly, while Tris links her fingers with mine under the table. I turn my gaze to her and am caught by what I see. There's unmistakable pride in her eyes.

After a long moment, Anna shakes her head slowly, smiling in something like awe.

"So," she says softly, "if I'm understanding correctly, in addition to overthrowing NUSA, you're _also_ responsible for fixing Chicago's mess."

"No…" I say, somewhat startled by that conclusion. "It certainly wasn't just me. For either of those."

"Oh, I know that," Anna agrees. "But you and your faction-mates are clearly worthy of your nickname." Tris gives her a questioning look, and Anna adds, "The heroes' faction."

My eyes move over the three of them, pausing on each in turn before stopping on Tris. "I think it's fair to say that title applies to you at least as much."

Anna chuckles. "Yes, we are quite the group, aren't we?" She winks at Tris before adding, "Never let it be said that a small group of dedicated people can't change the world."

It appears to be some private reference, or perhaps a quote, but it seems to relax her grandchildren, and I'm glad of that. Tris squeezes my hand before abruptly leaning up to give me a quick kiss. I'm more than a little surprised, given her family is right here, but I don't hesitate to return the affection.

"Hey, we don't need to see that, you know," Caleb declares, though his grin shows he doesn't really object.

"Well, then close your eyes," Tris jabs back, and just like that, the tension is gone from the room. I lean a little closer to Tris as we fall back into easy conversation.

It takes a while for the discussion to get back to uncomfortable territory. But eventually Anna says, "So, tell me about your faction. Your theme is continual self-improvement, right?"

Tris answers before I can. "Yes." Her gaze moves from her grandmother to me. "We focus on being brave _and_ selfless _and_ smart _and_ honest _and_ kind." She smiles a little, clearly remembering the first time I told her that I wanted to be all of those things. Way back in Dauntless….

She clears her throat before adding, "We also focus on recovery and forgiveness and on trying to improve the society around us." Her eyes are still on mine, and I force myself to meet them, though my mind is on the argument I had with Cara about that part of our manifesto. She insisted on including language about forgiveness, and I didn't want it there. I was utterly unable to forgive myself for what I'd done to Tris, and I didn't want to embrace a theme that said I should even try.

George was the one who changed my mind. He sat down with me and quietly explained that Amar had nightmares every night about killing Pari, and that he would never recover if he couldn't forgive himself for that. So, I allowed the focus for his sake.

The funny part is that I don't think Cara was even talking about me in the first place. I didn't realize it until we voted on letting Tris join our faction, but then it became obvious. All this time, she's been working on forgiving Tris for shooting her brother. She needed that language for herself.

Tris squeezes my hand again, and the motion brings me back to the present. I'm not sure how long we've all been silent, but judging by the way Caleb is looking down, he's as lost in his own thoughts as I was.

Anna's voice breaks him from it. "That sounds very appropriate."

"Yeah," he answers softly, his gaze meeting his sister's. I've spent enough time in support meetings to know true remorse when I see it, and it's obvious in this moment that Caleb still struggles to forgive himself as much as I do. And it's just as clear that Tris has fully forgiven him. I'm not sure if I should be glad of that or not, but I am.

"So," Tris says abruptly, refocusing the conversation, "what's Erudite like these days?"

Caleb gives her a lopsided smile as he begins his answer. It's long and somewhat dull, as I expect from him, but I'm glad for the change of subject anyway. And I'm relieved to spend the rest of the meal in more mundane conversation. I love that Tris' family engages in lively discussion, but sometimes enough is enough.

We've been here for more than two hours when we finally conclude our lunch and start getting ready to head home. Tris excuses herself to use the restroom before we face the long walk, and I stretch as I debate doing the same.

Anna, however, turns her gaze to her grandson. "Caleb, could you please give us a moment alone?"

He looks surprised but nods anyway. "Sure. I'll be down in the gallery."

Anna wastes no time before stepping close to me, her eyes on the hallway that Tris went down while she places a gentle hand on my arm. She speaks quietly, clearly not wanting to be overheard.

"In case you haven't figured it out yet, I didn't tell Tris that you retrieved my ring."

"Yes, I noticed." I keep my volume low to match hers. "Is there a particular reason?"

Her mouth cinches. "Some…_events_…happened that complicated things. I don't have time to explain them right now, so that will have to wait for another day. But ultimately, I felt that I couldn't tell Tris about the ring without getting into all of the related events, and those were…too much at the time."

She seems to be searching for words, and she looks away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. "And Tris needed to decide how she felt about you on her own, without any of that interfering."

A small smile forms on her face. "Besides, it was obvious that you two were going to get back together anyway, so it wasn't necessary to mention your good deed. And frankly, it seems like something that Tris should find out about from you. At the right time."

It's not hard to tell from her expression what timing she means. She wants this to be a surprise for Tris when I propose. I smile a bit as I realize that I no longer even think _if_. Only _when_.

But that thought reminds me of a different kind of promise I already made to Tris.

"I don't want to keep secrets from her," I say a bit uncomfortably. "I've done too much of that already."

Anna chuckles, a low sound from deep in her throat. She pats my arm as she murmurs, "Trust me, Tobias. This one doesn't count."

_**A/N: Please take a moment to review this chapter. I'm still fighting the whole temporary computer mess, so it's difficult to write and edit, and I could definitely use your encouragement. Also, if anything in this chapter is inconsistent with "Determinant" or other chapters, please let me know; it's difficult to check right now. Thanks!**_


	27. Chapter 27: Tris - Girls' Night Out

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and **_**_**to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_****_ I really appreciate the support._**

**Chapter 27: Tris – Girls' Night Out**

Like most of the others in my faction, I don't technically need to work. The city provides those of us who went on the mission with a "heroes' pension" that covers our monthly expenses. Apparently, Tori proposed it originally, in order to ensure that Amar could receive the care he needed from George and Tobias and Cara without any of them trying to fit other jobs in around that responsibility. I gather it was one of the few unanimous decisions the city council has ever made.

But I find myself itching to do something, anyway. So, I spend time with the others, going to work with them to get a sense of what I might enjoy doing. The list of options is essentially endless now, since factions no longer have a monopoly on any given type of job, but that makes it more difficult than ever to pick.

Cara is studying to be a doctor, a position that appeals to both the Erudite and the Abnegation parts of me. But it only takes a short time of shadowing her to realize that I've seen too much blood in my lifetime as it is. So, I decide against the medical profession as a whole.

Amar isn't up to an outside job yet, so he mostly works within our building, though he occasionally helps Tobias set up other factions. George sticks close to him, taking care of his medical needs in between his regular appointments and therapy sessions, and helping him deal with the many issues that still arise every week. He's much better than he was, I'm told, but after seeing the full-out melt-down he had a few days ago when a car back-fired outside the window, I can understand why George makes sure not to be far away.

Shauna is running her own tattoo business, serving the many former Dauntless who live all around the city, as well as anyone else who wants a tattoo these days. She competes with the shop that Tori used to run, but it seems she has plenty of customers. That's not surprising, given how many people Dauntless kicked out over the years – most of them would much rather give their money to Shauna than to their former faction.

Christina and Zeke both work in the city's police force, with Zeke in surveillance and Christina doing patrols. They keep trying to get Uriah to join them, but he's apparently been having trouble picking a career. I gather he's tried quite a variety of jobs, but nothing has lasted long. Currently, he's serving as a guard for the city council, since they don't want all of their protection to come from any single faction.

I suppose that's why I find myself following Christina through the building where the next council meeting will be held. They alternate the location, and this one will be in a place that was abandoned until five months ago. It's now a community center for those who choose to remain factionless. As Evelyn says, everyone should have a sense of community, even if they don't want to base their lives around a specific theme.

Christina's job is to start securing the space, to ensure the council will be safe here – along with any members of the public who choose to attend the meeting.

It's not the most interesting work I've ever seen, though there's clearly an art to it, judging by how Christina stops to look at some things while passing by others that don't seem too different to me. I suppose that's a benefit of having grown up Candor – she notices every detail and knows which ones matter.

"We should do something fun tonight," Christina chirps as she runs her hand over the top of a doorframe, presumably checking for wires.

My eyes narrow a bit. "That depends on what you consider 'fun.'" I'm not particularly interested in going clothes shopping for hours.

She evaluates me for a moment – probably reading my mind the way she so often seems to do. And then her face lights up. "Ooh, I know," she squeals excitedly. "We can get Shauna and Cara and have a girls' night out. Just the four of us."

The idea has some appeal. As much as I love spending time with Tobias, he definitely draws my focus when we're all together in a group. And when _he's_ not doing that, Zeke and Uriah usually are with their antics, or Christina is dragging me off for a private conversation. I feel like I barely see Shauna and Cara most days.

Plus, I've never been on a "girls' night out" before….

"Oookaaay," I agree hesitantly. "Where did you have in mind?"

She grins at me. "Well, Uriah says there's a new club less than a mile from home. I've been wanting to check it out."

It's difficult to hide my grimace. Tobias and I haven't been back together for all that long, and it feels wrong to go out to a _club_ without him. Particularly since I've never been to one before and have no idea what to expect.

"That sounds like a _great_ thing for you and Uriah to do," I comment more than a little snidely.

"_Ha ha_," she says as her fingers continue down the sides of the doorframe. "But I'm really not interested in watching Uri hit on everyone who moves." Her mouth tightens in distaste, though it's hard to say exactly why. As far as I know, she's not interested in Uriah that way.

"Besides, clubs are a lot of fun for a group of women," she insists. "We can dance and drink a little and watch all the single guys try to flirt with us."

"That's not really making a case for it," I say with a chuckle. After a second, she laughs too.

"Okay, fine. But you do realize that Four's been taking you to all the good places, right? There's practically nowhere left."

"It's possible to go _back_ to places, you know," I answer, rolling my eyes. "We only went on _some_ of the rides at the amusement park, for instance."

She thinks about that as she finally decides that the doorframe is safe and moves on to another part of the room.

"I thought it was only open on weekends right now. Until it gets warmer." Oh, yeah….

We're both silent for a moment, trying to come up with other ideas as she inspects a window carefully.

"There's a restaurant on the top floor of the Hub now," she says abruptly. "I've heard it's great. And the view is, too. How about we give that a try?"

A small smile crosses my face at the suggestion. Tobias still avoids heights as much as possible, so he's unlikely to be planning a date to that particular restaurant. And it would be quieter than a club – and presumably won't have single guys trying to flirt with us.

"That sounds like a great choice," I tell her.

* * *

"We should _so_ get tattoos while we're here," Christina says as the three of us wait for Shauna to finish her workday before we head out.

"That seems like it would defeat the purpose of getting out of here sooner," Cara says with a small frown.

"Well, Shauna can't leave until her night shift guy shows up, anyway," Christina answers, her eyes already running eagerly over the sheets of artwork on the walls. "So, we have forty minutes."

Cara makes a small noise of dissatisfaction. "How long does a tattoo take?"

Christina keeps her face straight as she says, "About five or six hours, depending on the size." She has _definitely_ been hanging out with Zeke and Uriah too much.

"That makes no sense," Cara begins, but she stops when I smack Christina on the arm.

Turning to Cara, I say, "She's joking. Only something really big would take that kind of time." My mind goes to the ink on Tobias' back. That must have taken days.

Rolling her eyes at Christina, Cara sits in one of the chairs that dot the waiting area and begins flipping through the books on the large coffee table. She's clearly not interested in marking her skin, so I suspect she just wants something to look at while she waits.

I find myself joining Christina, looking at a sheet of faction symbols. There are so many more of them now, and I gaze curiously at the new ones, wondering what beliefs go with each.

"That one is ours," Christina murmurs, pointing, "in case you're interested in getting it."

My gaze follows her finger, and I can't say I'm surprised to hear that this particular one belongs to us. It's a nice match to our manifesto, with each of the original five faction symbols arranged in one large circle, instead of being separated into individual rings. A bird crosses the top of the circle, rising above it to fly free.

The meaning is clear. As our base, we embrace the beliefs that this city was founded on – all of them. But we strive to be more than that. Our goal is to rise above those beliefs as something new, something more powerful than any one of the old factions by itself could make us.

For a long moment, I look at the image, a small smile forming on my lips. It reminds me of seeing Tobias' back for the first time, with the five symbols going down his spine.

It also reminds me of something else, and the more I look at it, the more I'm sure it's intentional. There are six symbols in this image – the same number of fears I have. And the sixth one is a bird that looks suspiciously like the ravens tattooed onto my collarbone.

In at least some manner, Tobias included me in our faction symbol.

My fingers run over it gently before I make my decision. "I want this one on my lower back," I tell Shauna, crossing the room to her without hesitation.

It's not until we're in the back room, away from Christina and Cara that I add the next part. "But first, I want to change something on an existing tattoo."

* * *

Christina was right about the view. It's breathtaking to see it, particularly with everything lit up against the dark night air, as we enjoy our dinner.

Shauna and Christina try a variety of cocktails, growing more and more talkative as they become more inebriated. I have one drink out of curiosity – some fruity mix that Christina recommends – but other than that I stick to water the same way Cara does. Maybe it's the Erudite in us saying not to kill off our brain cells with alcohol.

"You know," Shauna says loudly, tapping Christina's arm to get her attention, "one of these days Uriah is going to realize he _likes_ you." She giggles. "The same way Zeke _finally_ noticed me."

Despite the amount of alcohol in her body, Christina looks uncomfortable with the topic. And again, I wonder if she feels more for Uriah than she lets on. Perhaps more than she's admitted to herself.

"It took him _two_ flippin' years," Shauna continues, sloshing a bit of her drink onto her dress as she swings the glass wildly up to her mouth. "But now we've been together for a year and a half." She nods vigorously, causing more liquid to spill before she manages to drink some.

She glances around quickly, as if she's suddenly worried about being overheard, and lowers her voice as she adds, "Don't tell anyone, but I think he's getting ready to propose."

"What?!" Christina exclaims loudly enough to carry through the entire restaurant. She clamps a hand over her mouth as people a few tables away turn to look at us. "Sorry," she mumbles much more quietly. "But _really_?"

"What makes you think that?" Cara asks in a far more level voice.

"One of my rings went missing," Shauna answers, staring in drunken fascination at her glass for a few seconds before remembering that we're still here. "I was tryin' to find it, and Zeke was all 'oh, are you sure you didn't leave it at work,' but I knew I hadn't. And then the next day, it was just there again." She makes a poofing motion with one hand, as if it magically reappeared.

Chuckling, she adds, "He tried to act like it must have been in my jewelry box the whole time and I missed it. But he was obviously using it to figure out my size."

"Why didn't he just trace the inside dimensions sometime when you weren't there?" Cara asks, her expression puzzled. "Or get a sizing chart from the jeweler and compare it? That way, he wouldn't have had to borrow the ring long enough for you to notice."

Shauna stares at her, clearly having trouble following the train of thought through the haze of alcohol. "We're not all Erudite, you know," she finally says, somewhat defensively.

"Yeah," Christina chimes in. "Some of us are Zeke!"

The statement makes us all laugh. Zeke is certainly not dumb, as I've learned over the time I've known him, but logic isn't his greatest strength. Not that Cara's options would have occurred to me, either. Unlike Shauna, I don't own any rings, and I know nothing about jewelers, so I wouldn't have known that a sizing chart was even available. Or that the inner dimensions were all I needed.

Briefly, I wonder how Tobias will figure out my size if we ever reach that point. If we still had my grandmother's ring, he could have used that, since it actually fit me. But of course we lost that option in Pittsburgh, when we had to sell the ring to finance our mission. There was no way around that, and I don't regret the decision, but that doesn't mean I don't still think about it sometimes….

"Regardless, I'm happy for you, Shauna," Cara says, and her words pull me back to the present. A slight blush rises on my cheeks as my inner Abnegation chastises me for selfishness. This moment isn't about _me_.

"Yes, congratulations," I say, smiling widely. Shauna has been through so much, between losing her sister and dealing with paralysis and having to change her career because of that. But she's pulled her life together with a strength that I think is truly Dauntless, and I'll always admire her for that. She certainly deserves this joy.

"It's probably better to wait until he actually asks," she tells me, flicking at a spot on her dress as if she's trying to figure out how it got wet. "But thanks anyway."

A big smile suddenly forms on her face as she looks around at us. "You'll all be my bridesmaids, right? I want all of you." She reaches out, grabbing my wrist, to my surprise. "Especially you, Tris." Her expression saddens. "You were Lynn's friend."

The words twist something inside my stomach, as I remember holding Lynn's hand while she died. We didn't know each other well, but Shauna is right. I consider her to be a friend.

"I would be honored," I say quietly, and Shauna squeezes my arm gratefully before letting go and reaching for her drink again.

"I'm so glad you're back, you know," she adds, taking another wild swing with her glass, missing her mouth completely this time but not seeming to notice. "Four was such a mopey bastard without you around."

She chuckles again, apparently thinking about something. "Of course, he was like that most of the time in Dauntless, too. Not quite sure how he ended up friends with Zeke…." She swings her glass up toward me in a toast, sending a few drops through the air and onto my face. "But the point is he's actually _happy_ with you here. So, I'm glad you came back."

"Hey," Christina protests. "You're supposed to like her for other reasons, not just because Four loves her." She leans over the table as if she's planning to hug me from all the way on her side. When she can't reach, she settles for patting my hand. "Like because she's my best friend."

Cara smiles a little. "Well, I for one have other reasons for being glad that she's back." Her gaze passes over our two companions before meeting mine. "It's nice to have someone _intelligent_ to talk to."

Before I can answer, Christina's eyes widen. "Ooooh, ouch!" she says loudly. Looking at Shauna, she adds, "I think she just insulted us."

Shauna slaps her palm onto the table, her expression unreadable. "_Finally!_" she exclaims, breaking into a grin. "I was starting to think she'd _never_ learn how to do that."

As the two begin howling, patting each other on the back in mock congratulations, Cara joins in, giggling more than I've ever seen from her. A grin works its way onto my face, too, as I watch the dynamic between my three friends. I would never have expected Zeke and Uriah to influence our entire faction so much, but I suppose their style of humor is truly infectious.

Overall, I think that's a good thing. We all need a little more laughter in our lives.

_**A/N: I've decided to include some of the other stories that I originally planned to write as one-offs in this fic. That means it will be about 45 chapters long in total. Hopefully, that's a good thing. Anyway, please take a moment to review this chapter. It looks like I'm going to be stuck using a temporary computer for a while, so it's difficult to write and edit, and I could really use your ongoing encouragement. Also, if you spot any typos or inconsistencies, please let me know. Thanks!**_


	28. Chapter 28: Tris - A Dauntless Date

_**A/N: I'm sure this will come as a shock, but cats, keyboards, and full glasses of water don't mix well...**_

_**So, here is my posted-with-great-difficulty chapter. I hope you enjoy it. And as always, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and **_**_**to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_****_ I really appreciate your support._**

* * *

**Chapter 28: Tris – A Dauntless Date**

I'd forgotten how cold the train floor and walls feel during the winter. So, when Tobias slides down to a sitting position, I can't help arching an eyebrow in question.

"Just giving you a seat," he comments, his lips turning up as he pats his lap. That's definitely an invitation I'm willing to accept, particularly since we've been on this train for quite a while now. As best I can tell, Tobias is deliberately circling the city to keep me from guessing where we're going.

I smile as I straddle his hips, facing him, the way I did so long ago – the first time we rode a train together after acknowledging that we liked each other. His breathing catches, and he sits up straighter, his hands on my back as he stares at me.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I ask.

"Really?" His smile widens, though I can see the twitching at the corner that indicates he's trying to hide it. "_That's_ what you're thinking when you're in this position?" Leaning forward, he kisses me on the cheek, and then along my jaw. His lips brush my ear as he whispers, "_My_ mind is definitely on other things right now."

My pulse finds its way into my throat at the words, and at the feel of his breath on my skin and his body pressed against mine. It all feels so _good_, and it reminds me of other train rides and a hundred other moments of the two of us close together. I don't even try to stop the moan that slips from my mouth.

A low chuckle rumbles through his body. "That's better," he murmurs, his lips sucking on the side of my neck. His hands press against the small of my back now, right over the new tattoo he hasn't seen yet, before they continue up my spine. Another moan emerges, and he sits up straighter, his hands pressing harder. "Much better," he breathes.

My lips move to his, and he responds eagerly, and for a long moment, there's nothing except _this_. The rest of the world doesn't matter in the slightest – only this incredible give and take between us.

"Tris," he finally murmurs, pulling away with obvious reluctance. His breathing is heavy. "It's time to jump."

"I thought your mind wasn't on where we're going," I tease as I manage to drag myself from his lap back to a standing position.

"Trust me," he all but growls, his eyes hanging on me like he _very_ much wants to see through the coat I'm wearing, "I'm tempted to loop around the city again." He pushes himself to his feet, leaning close to my ear and whispering, "But maybe we can pick this up again later?"

My voice is little more than a breath as I answer. "Okay."

We jump from the train together, running forward as our feet hit the ground to avoid losing our balance. It's warmer now, with the sun high overhead, so we strip our gloves and link our hands as we walk.

I still can't tell where we're going. When we got on the train, I assumed we were heading for the Dauntless compound, since Tobias has been taking me to each faction in turn for our Saturday dates, and that's the one I thought was next. But that's clearly not where we are. If anything, we seem to be close to home.

Wherever we're going, the route is vaguely familiar, and I think back through all the places I've been in the city at this point, trying to remember. I don't figure it out until I realize that we're getting closer and closer to the Hancock building.

But that doesn't make sense. Tobias has faced his fear of heights many times for me, but I can't imagine what would draw him to such a tall building when there are so many other choices on how we could spend the day.

Still, that's where he leads me, his steps never faltering as he takes me through the door and into the first elevator that opens. I raise an eyebrow when he presses the button for the hundredth floor.

"This building is kind of an experiment," he tells me, his voice steady despite the fact that we're heading to the top floor in the tight confines of the elevator. "Multiple factions have been rebuilding sections of it and using it for their own purposes, since it's too big for anyone to use the whole thing at this point."

"That sounds intriguing," I admit. "What are we going to do here?"

He scratches the back of his neck, looking down as he responds. "Well, it's Dauntless day. So, zip-lining." There's a faint edge of nervousness behind the strength in his voice.

"Tobias, you don't have to do that." Honestly, I'm touched that he'd even offer, but I don't want to make him go through with it.

"I know." His eyes meet mine. "But you conquered one of your fears for me. I want to try to do the same."

I can't help the smile that tugs at my mouth. "I didn't conquer it _just_ for you, you know," I tell him. "It was for both of us."

The grin that spreads across his face is infectious. We've been taking things slowly since we got back together, so we haven't repeated that particular experience yet, but in this moment, I know we're both giving it a whole lot of thought.

He steps even closer to me, pulling me into his arms and lowering his face into my hair. I can hear him breathing deeply, and I realize he's taking in my scent the same way I do his.

"They have a double-harness they use for two people to go together." I can feel him nod against my head as if he's reassuring himself. "I figure that as long as I can hold you and smell you the whole time, I'll be okay."

Before I can answer, the elevator doors open, and Tobias links his fingers with mine again, leading me onto the hundredth floor without hesitation.

But my feet stumble to a stop as I find myself looking at the room where I first met my grandmother. Where she told us about NUSA, and about the need for a mission to stop them. Where Tobias saw Amar and realized that he was still alive despite his faked death. And where Tori had the same realization about George.

"So much happened here," I say quietly.

"It did," Tobias acknowledges solemnly, as we both stare around us.

Standing here now, it's hard to remember how little we knew then. I couldn't possibly have predicted at that time that we would topple a country that we'd never even heard of, or that I would serve as president while putting together a new government for it. It feels like that day was a lifetime ago.

Eventually, my gaze migrates to the ladder that leads to the roof, and I remember the day I went zip-lining with Uriah and the other Dauntless initiates. That seems even longer ago, and suddenly I feel much older than my seventeen years. It's only been a year and a half, but I'm not the same person I was the last time I leapt from the roof of this building. I'm not sure if that makes me more or less curious to repeat the experience.

But even if we don't actually go zip-lining, I would like to see the view again, so I cross to the ladder. Tobias follows me up the rungs, and another memory flits through my mind – of climbing the Ferris wheel with him right behind me. That was the first time he faced his fear of heights for me. Maybe he's right that today will help him conquer it entirely.

The moment I step onto the roof, I'm hit with the blast of cold air. It's considerably chillier up here than it was on the ground, and I wrap my coat more tightly around me and put my gloves back on as Tobias hauls himself up next to me. Even over the wind, I can hear him breathing heavily, but he places an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him, and I know he's drawing strength from our closeness. He did the same thing in his fear landscape an eternity ago.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask him.

His eyes hold mine as he visibly considers his answer, and then he nods. "Yes." His voice is deep, and there's a certainty in his expression, and in that moment, I understand his desire to do this. He wants me to know that with me, he can handle anything. The thought spreads a sweet warmth through me despite the cold wind.

Together, we make our way to the small stand near the edge of the roof. To my surprise, Zeke is standing there, grinning at the two of us as he holds up a harness.

"So," he calls over the sound of the wind, "I hear someone would like a scenic tour of the city."

"Absolutely," I answer with an equally wide smile. Tobias just gives a stiff nod.

"Do you normally do this on weekends?" I ask Zeke curiously.

"Not often, no." He meets Tobias' gaze before looking at me again. "But I couldn't miss Four's first time zip-lining." With a wink, he adds, "Besides, you don't really think he'd trust anyone else with your life, do you?"

It's not a comment I expected, but as I think about it, I realize that Zeke is the only person besides Tobias who has ever secured me into a harness of this type. He helped all of us the first time I was here, and he did the same thing with the hand-made harnesses we used to travel between rooftops when we rescued Caleb. Clearly, he has experience at this – as well as my boyfriend's trust.

"Well, strap us in, then," I tell him with a grin. Looking at Tobias for confirmation, I add, "Head first?" Tobias nods.

Zeke connects Tobias first, and to his credit, he never comments on his friend's obvious discomfort. It's hard to say if he knows what Tobias' fears are, but he must at least suspect that height is one of them.

Tobias watches closely as Zeke connects me next, and he can't seem to stop himself from double-checking every knot and seam. Zeke rolls his eyes but doesn't complain – instead, he just gives a good tug on everything at the end before nodding in satisfaction.

"There are people waiting to catch you at the end," he explains. Placing a hand on something above our heads, he adds, "This will separate Tris from the line so she can get off." I lift my hand automatically towards it, but quickly realize that with the double-harness adjusted for Tobias' height, I can't reach it.

Zeke smiles. "Yeah, Four's going to have to do that." He looks at Tobias for a moment before continuing. "Just to be clear, you're going to be in charge of a few things on this ride, Four, so pay attention or Tris could end up getting hurt."

From this angle, I can't see Tobias' face, but I can feel the way he straightens up, and I know that Zeke just picked the perfect way to make his friend less afraid and more able to handle this experience. After all, Tobias is never braver than when he's protecting me.

"I'm listening," he answers solidly.

And he does, as Zeke explains how to work the release switches and when to use them and then leads us carefully to the edge of the roof.

"Four, you're taller," he continues, "so you'll need to be the one who jumps. Don't go too high, but make sure you're both clear in one motion. Tris, just keep your feet out of his way. Once you're off the roof, gravity will do the rest."

"Got it," Tobias says gruffly, and Zeke gives us a grin.

"Okay, now this is the most important part…." He waits until we're both focused on him before adding, "Have fun!"

Tobias groans, and I laugh as Zeke backs away to give us room.

For a few seconds, we stand there silently, looking at the drop just in front of us – at a hundred stories of steel girders and black windows going straight down. I can hear Tobias breathing heavily behind me, and I link a gloved hand with his. He squeezes hard as he presses his cheek against mine.

"I love you, Tris." His voice is rough and filled with fear, but also with determination and strength. _He can do this._

With the harness holding us in place, I can't turn fully toward him, but I move my lips enough to brush against his. "I love you, too."

"On three, okay?" I ask, remembering when we leapt off the roof in his fear landscape. I feel him nod. "One, two, _three_."

On the last count, I lift my feet as Zeke instructed, letting my full weight rest in the harness and on Tobias. His muscles coil, and then he jumps – staying low as Zeke instructed but getting us off the roof. It takes only a moment for us to slide forward, and then we're flying through the air in the rush of movement I remember from last time.

Metal moves against metal, and the wind beats into us, lifting us, and I spread my arms out like a bird. Tobias drops my hand and instead wraps both of his arms around my waist. I'm not sure if he's seeking comfort from my presence or is afraid that I'll fall if he doesn't hold me, but either way, his grip is tight.

We pick up speed, and I can feel my pulse pounding through every part of my body, spreading adrenaline with it, as a cry of pure exhilaration tears out of me. It comes out as a crow of joy.

Tobias buries his face into my hair, his arms forming a steel cage around me as his breath comes in rapid pants. Fighting against the wind, I bring my hands back in to squeeze his – and then to pull them away just a bit so I can breathe better.

"Sorry," he grunts, but I laugh. There's too much wild energy going through me for me to react any other way. I don't think I've ever felt more alive than at this moment.

And perhaps it's contagious, because he turns his head enough to press his lips to my cheek, and I can hear him saying, "You are _definitely_ not human" in a strangled voice.

The ground beneath us bulges up for a moment and then down again, and I'm seized by a sudden urge to shout something to the tiny people who can't possibly hear us.

"Hey!" I call over the rushing wind. "You down there! Look at us fly!" A vibration that's somewhat like laughter goes through Tobias.

"I love you, Tobias Eaton!" I scream at the top of my lungs, and this time, there's no mistaking the chuckle that rumbles through him.

His breathing seems much more even now, and I extend my arms like wings again, caught by the feeling of flight as we sail parallel to the ground. After a moment, he extends his arms over the top of mine, clasping my hands firmly in his. Given how he keeps his face pressed against me, he may have his eyes closed, but either way, he's definitely less afraid than he was.

Another crow of joy rips from my throat, and this time Tobias makes some kind of answering sound. It's not clear what it is, but at least it's not a scream of terror, so I grin in response.

We're closer to the ground now, and I watch the pavement and steel zooming by as we continue to glide above it. It seems to take forever for us to begin slowing down, but once it starts, it feels like it came too soon.

And then we're coming to a stop, some twenty feet above the ground, and I can see the gathering of people that Zeke must have brought in for this. They pump their arms and cheer for us, and I grin wildly in return, remembering how much I felt like a part of Dauntless the last time I did this. Now, though, it's different. What I feel more than anything in this moment is how close I am to Tobias.

"We did it," I tell him, turning to see him as much as possible. "We got through it."

I can feel him smile against my hair. "You got me through it," he murmurs, as he did in his fear landscape so long ago, and the words send another pulse of warmth through me.

"Hey, drop already!" someone below us shouts, and I can feel the vibrations of Tobias' chuckle along my back.

"You ready?" he asks.

"Of course."

His hands move above us, tugging on the release that Zeke showed him, and then I'm falling toward the people below. My body hits them hard, crashing into their linked arms, but they catch me, and I laugh again as they bounce me once before setting me on my feet.

I join my arms with theirs so we can catch Tobias, and he drops soundlessly into our midst, letting us absorb his impact before we place him safely on the ground. To the rest of them, his face must look expressionless – a mask of fearlessness. But I can see the energy and triumph and sheer love burning through his fear as he looks at me. It makes something blaze inside me just as strongly.

Without stopping to think, I grab the front of his coat and yank him to me, kissing him deeply. The others cheer again as he wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the ground as he returns my affection.

And then we're shouting our thanks to the group and racing toward home, our hands clasped firmly together as the adrenaline pumps through us. I've never felt so much fire burning inside me, and I absolutely can't wait to get my hands on Tobias. Every single part of me _wants_ him right now.

There's no point in heading for the train, since it's just as fast on foot, now that we're taking a direct route instead of deliberately looping around the city to hide our destination. So, we run, ignoring the way people look at us as we race past them like maniacs.

We crash into Tobias' apartment, our lips finding each other's as we fumble to remove our coats and gloves and shoes through kisses that get increasingly hungrier and more demanding.

My hands are sliding under his shirt when he grabs my thighs, lifting me up and pressing my back against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist, and he grins before lowering his mouth to my neck, sucking and kissing with a passion that causes a moan to form from deep in my throat.

He moves lower, kissing the first of my ravens, and then the second. He pushes my shirt down with his mouth to reach the third. But then he stops, his eyes on the fourth one that he's never seen before.

"That one is for Anna," I tell him, and he nods slightly before kissing it, too. When he pulls back, our eyes meet, and I smile at the silent question in his. He must understand my unspoken answer, because he moves his chest away just far enough for me to pull my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor beside us.

For a moment, his gaze roams over me, taking in every detail, his expression filled with love and desire. And then he freezes, and I know he sees the fifth raven that is directly over my heart.

It's suddenly difficult to speak, and I can only muster a whisper as I say, "That one is for you, Tobias. You're my family, too."

His gaze shoots up to mine, and he stares speechlessly, his eyes dark with emotion and his breathing hard with leftover adrenaline. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out, and he closes it again, his gaze moving between my face and my heart.

In an abrupt movement, he lifts me higher as his mouth attaches to that raven and his entire body presses us both against the wall, every part of him hard as some mixture of a moan and a breath and my name escapes from him.

"Always," he pants against my skin. "Tris, I will _always_ be your family."

His arms clasp me to him as he suddenly swings us away from the wall, crossing the room quickly and dropping onto one knee to deposit me on the mattress that still sits on the floor.

"Always," he says again before his lips find mine and his body wraps around me.

"Always is good," I gasp against his mouth as my hands move up the smooth skin of his back, trying to get his shirt out of the way. He pushes himself up just long enough to yank it over his head, tossing it unceremoniously across the room before returning to my embrace. "I like always."

He groans, his fingers fumbling with my pants as my own seek out his belt, and then we finally have those off too, and he's whispering, "Beautiful" as he kisses his way across my skin. And then we're holding each other close as we show each other just how much we missed this in our year apart.

It's beyond passionate and beyond wonderful, and as I lie there afterwards, tracing our faction symbol where it rests over his own heart, I know that we have each other tattooed in that particular location for a reason. It's because _this_ is permanent.

_Always._

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_**A/N: To answer a guest's question, "No" on Brian Larimer's broadcasting equipment meant no one (he used that to practice messages without anyone hearing), and "Me" meant himself (he connected himself to the equipment with wires so he could hear Tris' broadcast to evaluate if it was what he wanted).**_

_**By the way, I know that everyone has Tris get a raven over her heart for Tobias, and I really tried to come up with something less-cliched to use, but the problem is that everyone does that for a valid reason. It's a meaningful, logical extension of Tris' tattoo and Tobias' promise to be her family. It makes so much sense that it's virtually impossible NOT to do it. And it was particularly important in this story, since Tobias felt like he broke that promise, and he needed to feel like he had another chance to keep it.**_

_**So, it's probably the least original thing I'll do in this story, but hopefully it worked anyway. Please let me know what you thought of it.**_

**_ All right, now I'm off to clean up the wet towels and check on the poor cat..._**


	29. Chapter 29: Tori - Visiting

_**A/N: T**__**hank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and **_**_**to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_****_ It's been a long, crazy week, and I really appreciate your support. (And by the way, to anyone who was wondering from the A/N in the last chapter - both the cat and the keyboard are fine now.)_**

**Chapter 29: Tori – Visiting**

I wonder if it will ever feel routine to visit my brother. After so many years of thinking he was dead, I doubt it. Still, it's become its own type of normal to stop by the Kaizen faction after most city council meetings – at least, after the ones that don't run for six hours due to Evelyn being a pain in the rear. Like last week's.

She was in full form again today, insisting that if Dauntless can't find a way to accommodate our aging members, we should fund a second faction for them so they don't keep draining her factionless resources. As my own age creeps up, I can't entirely deny she has a point, but it's certainly not her business how we handle our own.

The arguments play through my head as I walk the streets toward George's place, and they certainly don't improve my mood. It's difficult not to growl at Four when I enter the Kaizen gathering room. I'd never be stuck working with his mother if he hadn't convinced us to ally with her to get rid of Jeanine.

But the anger dies when I see Tris sitting next to him. Her presence reminds me of why Four did what he did – I've never seen anyone as desperate as he was while she was in Erudite. And really, it's a damned good thing he cared that much, or the whole city would have been lost to NUSA. It took the two of them together to stop that army.

So, I nod at them in greeting before pulling my brother into a tight hug. Amar gives me a quick embrace, too. Sometimes, my old friend does that, and sometimes I think my Dauntless appearance is too much for him, even a year and a half after his brain injury.

"Are you joining us for dinner?" George asks as he sits back down and gestures for me to take a seat next to him. "Or will this be a short visit?"

The comment surprises me, and I glance at my watch before realizing that the meeting took more than four hours. They must be getting ready to eat here, though not quite yet, since not everyone has arrived. So far, it's just George, Amar, Four, Tris, and Shauna. All of them former Dauntless members.

"Sure, I'll join you, if that's okay."

From the other couch, Tris says, "That's fine. We made plenty of food." She glances at Four, and I realize who "we" is. I always forget that they take turns with that type of chore in this faction – I'm so used to the size of Dauntless, and to having dedicated staff and meals that never run out. Watching them here reminds me of why Evelyn makes some of the arguments she does. Not everyone has as much as my faction.

"Thank you," I tell Tris, giving her a small smile. In some ways, it feels like I've known her forever, even though it's been less than two years. I guess I still feel a connection to all the Divergents I tested, and she was the most Divergent of them all.

Once in a while, I wonder how different things would be today if I hadn't been the one to give her that aptitude test. If it hadn't been me, it would have been Elena, the tester from Erudite. She had a habit of "encouraging" people to switch from Abnegation, and of manipulating the test to accomplish that. It's possible she would have gotten Tris to go to Erudite the same way she did with Caleb. But it's equally possible she would have seen Tris' Divergence and reported it. And then Tris wouldn't have survived much past that day.

"How was the council meeting?" George asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.

"Rotten," I answer, letting my eyes move to Four. "Your mother is still a pain, you know."

He chuckles. "Tell me about it."

Tris' mouth flattens. "But does she have a point?" she asks, and I sigh in response. Trust Tris to make it about the issue and not the personality. She must have been a great president.

"Yes," I admit reluctantly. "She does. We need to think of better ways to allow Dauntless members to grow old without dying or leaving the faction."

"Feeling your age, sis?" George asks with a grin, and I smack his arm in retaliation.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up."

The others laugh, but Four looks thoughtful. "I have some ideas on that, if you're interested." He shrugs when I frown at him. "I spent some time thinking about it during my brief tenure as a leader there. Back when I thought that Evelyn might actually work with us." He glances at Tris, and I know he's not adding: before his girlfriend turned herself in to Jeanine, and his entire focus shifted to saving her.

It's difficult not to sigh. I've already spent the day listening to Evelyn, and I'm really not in the mood to have her son throw ideas at me, too. But all things considered, I owe him that courtesy.

"Why not?" I mutter. "Go ahead."

He nods. "Your biggest problem is handling mobility issues." His gaze turns to Shauna for a moment, and I have to agree with him. We don't do a good job of accommodating members who can't walk – or walk well.

"And the primary reason that's an issue is that all your shops, and your cafeteria, and most of your apartments are in the Pit and the lower levels."

"Which isn't a great place for them, anyway," Shauna chimes in. "Think about it – how much trouble did you have with mold in your tattoo shop, because it was built into rock below ground level?" I don't answer aloud, because she clearly already knows that it was a major problem, but I tilt my head in acknowledgement.

She gives a half-smile as she continues. "I haven't had any of those issues in my shop. And that's just with tattoo materials. It must be even worse with food and clothing and furniture."

"And medical supplies," George adds. "And don't forget that it's terrible for patients to be breathing moldy air."

"That would all go away if you started relocating those services," Four says. "You could put them in the building above – which has elevators – or in any of the surrounding buildings. If you want to get fancy, you could even connect the buildings through covered walkways, the way Erudite did."

"I don't know," I answer, shaking my head automatically. "So much of Dauntless' personality is based on the Pit, and we shouldn't lose that."

"You wouldn't have to," Tris says, her mouth pulled down into a thoughtful frown. "Think of all the things you could do with that great big space if it wasn't filled with shops and apartments. You could have a zip-line set up there, and rock climbing, and hang-gliding."

"You could add swimming pools, too," George contributes, "and skating rinks."

"And expand the shooting ranges," Amar says. I'm vaguely surprised at that suggestion from him. He tries very hard to avoid thinking about guns these days.

Regardless, they do collectively make a good point. We could put a lot of optional recreational activities into the Pit and the surrounding area if we relocated the critical services.

A wry smile forms on my face. "Okay, I get it," I admit. "And I'll…consider it."

Unlike Evelyn, they seem to know when to drop a subject, because they turn to lighter conversation at that point. We're still chatting when Zeke enters the room, looking a bit worn, with Christina and Uriah trailing behind him. They were all busy handling security for the council meeting today, along with some Dauntless members, so they had as long a day as I did.

"Hi, Tori," Zeke mutters as he passes me on his way to give Shauna a kiss. I watch the two of them have a murmured discussion while Christina and Uriah drop onto the free couch. There's something about the way they sit – just a little closer than normal – that makes me wonder if anything is brewing between them. It would be nice to see that, after the way they both lost their romantic partners to Jeanine.

Zeke draws my attention again when he turns to me with a much brighter expression.

"Hey, did Shauna tell you that we're engaged?"

"No," I say in surprise, "she didn't." I narrow my eyes at her, wondering how she managed to avoid mentioning that, but she just grins as she holds up her hand to display her engagement ring.

"I thought I'd wait until we could tell you together," she comments.

"Well, congratulations," I say firmly. "I always thought you two were a good couple." And it's true. I watched Shauna pine over him for a long time before they got together, and then I saw how much he missed her when the two of us were spies in Erudite. And how the two of them became even closer after her paralysis and after Lynn's death – traumas that might have driven a lesser couple apart. They belong together.

"When's the date?" I ask.

Shauna bites her lip, looking nervous, and Zeke glances at the others briefly before clearing his throat. "Um, we actually wanted to talk to you about that…." He scratches at the back of his neck in a habit that he probably picked up from Four. "Do you think that you might…be willing to perform the ceremony?"

The request catches me off guard. As a faction leader, I perform many wedding ceremonies within Dauntless. And as a member of the city council, I technically have the authority to do the same for members of other factions – and for the factionless. But no one has asked me that before.

My voice is uncharacteristically quiet when I answer. "I would be honored." And indeed I would.

* * *

The ceremony takes place the next month. They opt to hold it in Dauntless, so they can invite their extended family members and friends and have enough room for everyone. Shauna's mother and her maid of honor, Samantha, handle most of the planning, but I arrange cars to transport them, and I clear the glass floor for them. Amar will be here today, and I don't want him disturbed by people on the high-wires or anything like that.

We also kick everyone out of the fear landscape room for the day, using it instead as a prep area for Shauna. It's nice to see some happiness in that place, after all the thousands of times it's been associated with nothing but fear and misery.

I check in on the bride briefly, watching as Samantha pins Shauna's hair up to affix the veil, before moving into the larger room. The others should be arriving soon, from the various apartments being used as dressing rooms.

Zeke is first, walking in with his two best men by his side – he never could decide between Uriah and Four, so he asked them both. I don't know who picked the groom's tuxedo out, but it definitely suits him. He looks as good as he usually _claims_ he does.

The families arrive next, and Zeke's mother beams at him proudly before pulling him into a hug that seems like it will never end.

The bridesmaids file in shortly afterwards, their black dresses laced with red in a pattern that works surprisingly well. They slip into the fear landscape room to make sure everything is set before taking their places.

By the time they're ready, the audience is, too, and I know we're just waiting for Amar and George now – the groomsmen. Their car is coming last, to minimize Amar's exposure to noises and crowds.

He looks a little nervous when they arrive, but at the same time, he seems to draw some strength from his old faction. His back straightens, and he stands tall and proud as he takes his place. It makes me smile as I move into my own position, along with everyone else.

The music starts almost immediately, and Shauna emerges from the fear landscape room, radiant in a gown that drapes over the sides of her wheelchair. Her eyes hold Zeke's the entire way down the aisle, and their hands clasp together when she reaches him, before they turn their attention to me.

It goes too quickly from there. I keep the oration simple, the way Dauntless typically does, and then the two of them are exchanging their vows and sliding rings onto each other's fingers. The audience cheers as Zeke kisses his bride passionately, causing her wheelchair to roll onto its back wheels as he dips her dramatically.

I'm not surprised when they don't do a stately march through the audience at the end. Instead, Zeke takes off in a wild run, pushing Shauna around the room at full speed. Both of them whoop in joy as they circle around their family and friends, Shauna's veil flying behind her. It makes all of us laugh.

Taking advantage of the cover noise, I nudge Four, who's standing near me, and ask, "When's your turn?"

His eyes move to Tris, where she stands with the other bridesmaids, calling her congratulations to the happy couple, and he can't seem to help grinning.

"Soon." His voice is deep and certain. "Very soon, I hope."

_**A/N: I feel like this chapter was a bit dull, but hopefully it worked okay. The next one is more exciting. In the meantime, please take a moment to write a review. I've been feeling unmotivated lately, with work and home both being busy and with all the computer problems, so I could really use the encouragement. Thanks!**_


	30. Chapter 30: Tobias - Therapy

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate the feedback. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

**Chapter 30: Tobias – Therapy**

Amar is clearly getting bored with his therapy sessions. He only gets two of them a week now – a Dauntless one with me and an Erudite one with George – but lately he's started complaining about them.

"Can't we work on Candor, or Abnegation?" he asks in frustration as he sits down in the reclining chair. "I mean, I know Amity is out, but I've kind of had it with the other two."

Instinctively, I shake my head. "We should really keep reinforcing the Dauntless pathways," I tell him somewhat apologetically. After all, that's his other main aptitude besides Amity, so it's the one that most actively counters the Amity part of his brain that's still on overdrive. "But we could alternate the Erudite sessions with something else."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and not meeting my eyes. And I know that something else is bothering him.

"What is it?" I ask, turning to face him fully and waiting for him to look at me.

He still doesn't as he speaks. "Don't take this the wrong way, Four. You're a good friend. You always have been. And I really appreciate everything you've done for me." He pauses, clearly uncomfortable. "But I'm tired of seeing your thoughts."

That's not an easy comment to answer. I've been doing these sessions from the beginning, since it was my broadcast that caused his brain damage in the first place, and Cara felt I was the best person to reverse it. And there's no way to deny that the therapy has helped him. But I certainly can't blame him for being sick of it by now. I certainly am, though I would never admit that – I don't want him to _ever_ feel like he's a burden. Especially not when I'm the one who did this to him.

"Would you be offended if Tris did some of the sessions?" Amar asks, his voice an interesting mix of hope and guilt.

For a second, I simply stare at him, shocked that the idea never occurred to me. _Of course_ Tris should try this. She was incredibly good at the broadcasts we practiced in the bomb shelter at the start of our mission, so I know she can do it. And Amar is particularly sensitive to her, since my broadcast made him see her as a role model. How could I possibly have missed this for the last seven months?

I guess I just always assumed this was my duty alone.

"That's a stunningly good idea," I remark. Amar's eyes finally rise to mine, and he grins sheepishly as I add, "I guess your Erudite sessions have been paying off."

"She's home now, right?" he asks hopefully. "How about I go ask her?"

But I shake my head again. "She'll have to observe at least one session and practice with me a bit first, so she won't be able to do today's. She could watch, though, if you're willing?" At his enthusiastic nod, I add, "Okay, let me go get her."

* * *

It's no surprise that Tris is receptive to the idea. Cara isn't here right now to run it past her, but I doubt she'll object – and today will just be an observation anyway. So, I lead Tris into the room and connect another set of receiving wires to the computer for her.

She looks at the setup more warily than I would have expected, given she never used the real broadcasting equipment, the way I had to. We only ever _practiced_ with this equipment, back when it was in the bomb shelter. I don't know why that would make her uneasy.

Regardless, she lets me connect her, watching me intently as I attach Amar's wires too before taking my seat and beginning my usual routine.

As always, I focus on my good memories from Dauntless during the time Amar was there. The goal is to remind him of what his life was like then without overwhelming him with the violence that would trigger flashbacks of what he had to do during our mission.

I start with my landing in the net, allowing a little of the fear I felt from falling to seep into the message. Small exposures to that help him build up a tolerance. My first time through the fear landscape is harder for him, so I skip most of it, though I do broadcast the last part, when he accepted me despite my troubled background – and when he gave me my nickname.

After that, I focus on the fighting skills he taught me, without showing the actual fights in which I used those skills. As I typically do, I skip most of stage two and three from initiation, except the part where Amar discovered my Divergence and hid it to keep me safe. That part demonstrates the best of Dauntless, in my opinion, so I make a point of including it in almost every session.

Moving on to the year after that, I show a few memories from life in my new faction, as well as some of our work to train the next year's initiates together. And then I do something I don't generally do, but something that should help prepare Tris to do a future session. I show some of my memories of her initiation.

We climb the Ferris wheel, as I showed briefly during my real broadcast, but this time I give more detail about the rest of the Capture the Flag game. I watch Amar's face carefully during it, to make sure the paintball guns aren't bothering him, but he looks thoroughly captivated by the images.

And I show the day I had the initiates fight me, as an excuse to teach them techniques that Eric wouldn't have allowed normally. I go through what I showed each of my students, particularly Tris, allowing my feelings for her to permeate the memory. She smiles, her gaze on me as she sees that scene from my perspective for the first time. Amar clearly enjoys it, too.

By the end of that, I realize we've filled our standard amount of time. It seems like a good stopping point, anyway, so I ease out of the signal and then click the keys to shut it down for now. I keep the software running, though, so Tris can practice in a little while. And then I disconnect Amar, making sure he's steady on his feet before he heads out.

George is waiting just outside the door, to go to the exercise room with Amar. We discovered some time ago that he could reinforce the Dauntless pathways by practicing martial arts right after a session, so they always work out together when we're done. I often join them, but today, I instead return my attention to Tris. She's been uncharacteristically quiet through all of this, and it concerns me a little.

Closing the door behind me, I cross the room to crouch in front of her chair.

"You all right?" I ask as I tuck a few strands of hair behind her left ear.

"Yes." But her voice is small, and she clears her throat before continuing. "I was just remembering a few things…." She gives an uncomfortable half-smile. "It's been a while since I used equipment like this."

For a few seconds, I'm silent as the discomfort in my chest grows.

"_Like_ this?" I finally ask. As far as I know, she's only ever used this specific set of equipment, albeit in a different location. She hasn't used anything else _like_ it.

Her eyes meet mine for a long moment before she nods. Her expression is sad. "Yes, _like_ this." She sighs, and it twists my insides a little more. "I had to do a couple of broadcasts when we were trying to clear out the remnants of NUSA."

My eyes close as it's suddenly difficult to breathe. I thought my broadcast was enough to eliminate that threat. I really did. It never occurred to me that I was leaving danger behind – and leaving Tris to face it without me. That assumption seems incredibly naïve now.

"Tobias," she says softly, but somehow firmly at the same time. She takes my hands in hers, holding them tightly. "I'm fine. Honest."

"Tell me what happened," I whisper.

She's quiet as she considers that. "A little later." Her voice quivers very slightly. "But…for now, can we just focus on how to do Amar's therapy sessions? I think it will be good for me to send something like that. A helpful message."

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. I wonder if I'll ever stop feeling guilty about everything I've put Tris through?

We start slowly, with her showing me memories of Dauntless from times when she felt like she truly belonged there. We stop after each, so I can give her feedback on how it's likely to affect Amar.

I watch her excitement the first time she jumped onto a train, and off of it. And I feel the same thrill she did as she jumped off the building into the unknown, laughing when she hit the net. She focuses a great deal of attention on me as she recalls the first time we met, and I have to admit it's exhilarating to see myself from her perspective. She sees me as far more handsome than I've ever felt.

She continues through her best memories of our second faction, and I see myself teaching her to fight, and picking her first for Capture the Flag, and climbing the Ferris wheel with her despite my fear of heights. At that time, I was so worried about letting her see that I was afraid, but now I realize it made her think of me as stronger rather than weaker.

It becomes trickier for her to pick good memories as she goes, since she has to skip everything that Peter and Molly and Drew did to her, as well as most of Eric's actions. Those are all too violent for Amar.

She also, wisely, chooses not to show our more intimate moments. As much as _I_ might like to see those from her point of view, they definitely wouldn't be appropriate to transmit to Amar, and that is after all what we're practicing here.

Unfortunately, between all of those restrictions and the fact that she doesn't seem to want to show her fear simulations or landscape, there's not much left. It's strange to realize that I actually have more positive memories of Dauntless than she does. Yes, I was there for a lot longer, but that still surprises me.

She finds a few things to show, though. I watch as she goes with her friends to get tattoos, and I feel how much she _loves_ heights as she goes zip-lining for the first time. It's almost enough to eliminate my remaining fear. Almost.

And I see her pride and feel her joy when she found out that she'd ranked first, and that her friends would be in Dauntless with her.

She seems to think for a bit, probably trying to come up with other appropriate memories, before she shifts to a paintball fight that she had with Zeke when they were trying to cover the cameras so Erudite couldn't spy on us. There's an edge of sadness to that memory, and I know it's because they missed one camera – and Marlene died as a result.

Still, she focuses on the fun of the moment, and it works.

She pauses again after that, and I see a small smile cross her face before she shows me the time she and her friends were passing through the Pit, and I called to her. _Drunk._

I've never been able to recall what happened that night, and the surveillance tapes didn't capture our conversation or exactly what I did when I leaned close to her. So, I've always wondered. Now, for the first time, I find out as I watch myself talk to her and hear the words I said, while feeling her reaction to them.

_"__You look good, Tris."_

The statement makes her heart leap, and mine with it, and I can't help the smile that forms on my face as I realize how that moment made her feel. And suddenly it no longer bothers me that I got drunk that night. It gave her hope that perhaps I liked her, too.

The memory leaves a warm glow, and we both bask in it for half-a-minute before her expression turns serious again. She locks her gaze with mine as she bites her lip thoughtfully, and I can feel her internal debate as she considers showing me something else. Something that's not at all happy.

I know without being told that she's thinking about whatever upset her earlier – about the broadcasts she had to give. And no matter how much I dread seeing that, I _have_ to know what happened.

Looking her straight in the eyes, I nod my head slowly. She does, too, before taking a deep breath. And then she begins.

She's standing in front of a crowd, talking to them as her brother and bodyguards stand nearby, when a gunshot rings out. It makes me flinch automatically, desperate to find the shooter even though I know this happened in the past. But of course I'm not really there, and all I can do is watch in horror as she and Caleb are captured, and as their captors torture him to make her cooperate.

She shows me the broadcast they made her send to the residents of Greensburg – and the hidden message she placed in it. I can't help but admire her for being collected enough to do that despite the terrible circumstances. I doubt I would have thought of it.

And I see that it worked, as she stares out a bathroom window at a police officer who emerges from the shadows in a nearby building. It's difficult to see his face, but the image stirs something in me – a sensation of familiarity that's gone as soon as it comes.

But I see the message he sends her, and that he's offering her a potential way to fight back. That possibility turns into a reality the next time Tris returns to the bathroom – and pulls a gun from where her helper hid it. And in that moment, I feel her thoughts turn to me.

Between growing up in Abnegation, and with my father, I always felt like I was less than everyone else. Less loved. Less selfless. Less intelligent. Less capable. Less attractive. Less everything.

But as I watch Tris struggle to face whatever horror is coming, it's clear that she doesn't see me that way at all. Instead, she draws strength from me, the way I so often do from her.

In her eyes, I'm strong and confident and capable of doing _anything_ to protect those I love. And she models herself after me as she returns to the room and does what it takes to save herself and Caleb from their abductors.

And she succeeds, somehow taking out four of them single-handedly and then broadcasting messages to eliminate the rest of the threat. By the time help arrives, she barely needs it anymore, but I watch as Lauren enters the room to "rescue" her.

My entire body freezes when I see the man behind her, and abruptly I understand why he looked familiar when I saw him in the other building. _Micky._

Lauren hired him because he was resistant to the broadcasts. That resistance must have allowed him to hear Tris' hidden message – and to get the gun to her that saved her life.

There's too much shock going through me to form a clear train of thought, but one concept manages to make its way deep into my core. He was there because I tracked him down to retrieve Anna's ring. Lauren never would have met him otherwise.

And if none of that had happened, Tris would probably be dead.

I can't breathe.

* * *

_**A/N: A guest (Tabitha) asked me a question in a review of "Determinant." Since I can't respond directly to guest reviews, and since that story is completed, I'm going to answer the question here and hope that she sees it. The question was what the mini-factions' source of income is. The answer is that the city as a whole shifted their monetary system. They used to bring all resources into one pot and then divide them evenly among the factions. The factions then used some of those resources (such as food) for everyone in their faction, and they divided the rest among their members as credits, which were given out based on the job each person worked.**_

_**Now, the city instead takes most of that pot and divides it directly among the jobs that people work all around the city. This effectively spreads the resources around the entire city, including among the new factions and the factionless. They still divide some resources (again, use food as an example) by faction, but they include the new factions and the factionless in those splits as well (essentially, it's divided by population size now).**_

_**Separately from this move, they also shifted from using credits to using cash when they joined the UCA. That allowed them to use a standard currency.**_

_**Hopefully, you see that answer, Tabitha, and it explains the shift adequately.**_

_**To everyone else, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your reviews really do motivate me and always make my day!**_


	31. Chapter 31: Tobias - Connections

**_A/N: _****_Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - you really responded to it, and I appreciate that very much. Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter for me at different points in time!_**

**_This chapter starts right after the end of the previous one, so if you don't remember that one, I'd suggest re-reading it before this one._**

**Chapter 31: Tobias – Connections**

"It's not your fault, you know," Tris says softly, her hand on my shoulder. I didn't notice her standing up, or disconnecting herself from the equipment, or stepping over to me, but her touch eases the panic that seems to be lodged in my chest.

Instinctively, I pull her into the reclining chair with me, pressing my face into the curve of her neck as our arms wrap tightly around each other. I'm still connected to all the wires, so I'm sure we're a tangled mess this way, but I don't care. I need this contact with her, and she seems to need it just as much.

"I should have been there," I murmur against her skin. It's all I can get out.

But Tris shakes her head firmly. "I'm very glad that you weren't."

The words startle me, and I pull away enough to meet her gaze. Her expression is stern as she continues. "If you had been there, too, they would have killed Caleb, the way they did with Nigel." She gives a bitter laugh. "Since they didn't need all three of us…. And then they would have tortured _me_ to force _you_ to cooperate."

The statement flashes through my mind as a series of nightmarish images, horrifyingly clear, and I know that she's right. After all, I'm the one who had the proven track record. They didn't know what Tris was capable of, so she was able to get away with an ineffective broadcast, but I couldn't have. Not when they'd already seen that I could sway the entire country.

And after what happened in Erudite, we both know that I would have done _anything_ to stop Tris from being tortured. It took mere minutes for me to reveal the locations of the factionless safe houses after Jeanine gave her that fear serum. An involuntary shudder goes through me at the memory.

Tris' voice is low as she continues. "And if you sent a message at full strength, no one could have resisted it, except maybe Peter. So, it would have taken much longer for anyone to help us, if they ever succeeded at all."

And again, I know that she's right. But that still doesn't make it any easier to accept. It will always seem _wrong_ that Tris was safer without me there. That she had to face so much alone that day….

My arms tighten around her, pulling her even closer in a belated attempt to protect her from everything she's already gone through. She presses her face into my neck this time, her lips moving against my skin as she whispers, "Besides, you got me through it anyway."

I can feel her mouth curving into a faint smile, and for a moment, I assume she's talking about Micky. But then I remember that she doesn't know I retrieved the ring, so she doesn't know that I have any connection to Micky.

No, she's talking about what she showed me. How she was thinking about me, and drawing strength from that thought, and modeling her actions after me. I helped her the same way she's helped me so many times, even when she wasn't there.

But it wasn't enough. If Micky hadn't been there to hear her hidden message…I don't even want to think about what would have happened.

Abruptly, I understand Anna's comment at our lunch months ago. _This_ is why she didn't tell Tris about the ring. When she said that other events complicated things, _this_ is what she meant.

And I know exactly how she must have felt, because I have no idea how to explain this connection, either. I'm not even sure if I should. In some ways, it feels like trying to excuse my absence, or trying to take credit for Micky's actions….

My hands rub up and down Tris' back as I search for words. But all that finally comes out is a soft, "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she whispers back. Her voice is thick as she adds, "Be proud of me instead. I like that better than pity."

The comment tugs at something deep inside me, and I pull back enough to stare at her. In that moment, I'm filled with awe, as I so often am at her strength.

"I am _incredibly_ proud of you," I tell her sternly. My hands cup her cheeks. "I hate that you had to go through that alone, but you're the only one who could have done it." I shake my head, at a loss on how to express what I'm thinking. And then a smile ghosts over my lips as I remember her original three aptitudes.

"Only someone who is Dauntless _and_ Abnegation _and_ Erudite all in one could have done that, Tris. They could have defeated anyone else, but they never had a chance against you."

For another moment, we just stare at each other, as I watch the fierce energy fill her eyes. It draws me to her like nothing else ever can, and I can't help leaning forward those extra few inches to bring my mouth to hers.

The kiss is one of the best we've ever had. And given what happens after it, I know I'll never look at this room the same way again.

* * *

Anna is in a meeting when I arrive at her building. That's not surprising, since it's the middle of the workday, but this is the best time to come here without Tris wondering where I am.

So, I find myself pacing back and forth in Anna's office, trying to burn off nervous energy as I wait for her. It's been a year since I last saw the ring that I'm here to retrieve, I realize on my tenth pass across the room. I'm more than ready to change that. I just hope that Tris is ready, too.

At least the office is a good size for pacing – large enough for me to fit four long strides in each direction before I have to turn. And like the art gallery downstairs, there are paintings on the walls, so I pause to examine those as I reach each turning point.

There are photos on the desk, too, and I find myself gazing at them as my pacing extends to other parts of the room. Unsurprisingly, Tris and Caleb are featured heavily in them – along with me at times – but there are also images of Tris' mother, Natalie, from when she was young. My eyes stop for a moment on a family portrait of a much-younger Anna and Natalie with a man and a boy I don't recognize. They must be Anna's late husband and son. She had a cute family.

I can't say that I ever expected to have a family like that, or even to have what I do now with Tris. There are so many ways this could have never happened, or could have crashed and burned a long time ago. Either of us could have died on a dozen different occasions, and we certainly could have stayed apart after I left.

But somehow, we made it through all of that and grew stronger and closer together over time. The scared, unloved boy that's still buried somewhere inside me can't help but grin at the thought.

"Tobias," Anna says as she enters the room, looking pleasantly surprised to see me. "I wasn't expecting you today."

She pauses to give me a quick hug – her usual greeting toward her family – before settling into her desk chair.

"Are you here on business?" Something about her expression makes me think she already knows the answer, so I just shake my head, letting my lips turn up at the corners.

"Ah." A smile shapes her own mouth. "It's that time, then, I take it?"

The grin spreads across my face. "If she'll have me, yes."

Anna gives a light laugh. "Oh, I think we both know the answer to that is yes." Her certainty makes something lift inside my chest.

"Please, sit down," she adds as she gestures to the guest chairs that surround her desk. I nod, taking the one that's directly opposite where she's sitting. As I do that, she opens a drawer and pulls out a small ring box. My heart starts pounding harder at the sight of it.

But she doesn't hand it to me. Instead, she sits back in her seat, her expression serious now. "There's something you should know, before you give this to Tris." She purses her lips thoughtfully. "You see, this ring saved her life. And Caleb's, too."

She pauses, trying to pick her words, but I go there before she can. We might as well cut to the chase here.

"I know about Greensburg." Her eyes shoot up to mine, startled. "And about what Micky did there."

For a second, she just stares, but then one side of her mouth tugs upwards. "Well, I'm glad to see that you and Tris talk. So many people don't, you know."

I'm not sure how to answer that, but Anna just chuckles, and I realize that I don't need to respond. Instead, I let her continue on her own.

"I will be forever grateful to you for that, Tobias." Her gaze is unwavering. "If you hadn't gone to such lengths to find this ring, both of my grandchildren would be dead. I don't take that lightly."

My mouth flattens as I shake my head a little, automatically. I can't take credit for what Micky did. But Anna continues despite my gesture.

"And personally, I find it very fitting that you helped Tris even without being there, or realizing it. Simply because you loved her enough to give her such an incredible gift. That tells me how much you two belong together. And that this ring is truly yours." Her lips lift a little. "It already connects you both."

She extends the box toward me, and I take it carefully, feeling my heart thump hard as I touch it.

My fingers shake just a little as I open the lid, letting my gaze fall on the ring that I haven't seen for so long now. I'm startled by the sheer force of the emotions that go through me. I've known for a long time that I want to place this ring on Tris' finger, but actually seeing it again makes it all _real_. And in this moment, I have never wanted anything more.

But slowly, my eyes move to the second ring in the box, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Anna apparently notices, because she says quietly, "That one belonged to my husband." Her voice is tighter now. "I didn't have it with me when you left on your mission, so you never had to sell it or retrieve it." She clears her throat. "Anyway, I originally planned to give it to Caleb, but…I've come to realize that the pair should stay together. And I know that Douglas would have wanted you to have it."

She smiles, a little sadly, as she looks at me. "He would have liked you."

I can't help but be touched by this gift.

"Are you sure you want to part with it?" I ask quietly.

She nods, her expression serious and determined, and I do, too. Cautiously, as if they're fragile, I pull both rings out, laying them on my palm so I can look at them more closely.

They're not a matched set. The man's ring is mostly black gold, with a band of yellow gold running around the center – the same tone as the woman's ring. They look good together – very good – but they're definitely not a set.

Anna must see the confusion on my face, because she answers my unspoken question. "Douglas and I were both strong individuals with our own styles. We weren't the same person, and it felt wrong to get a set that made it seem like we were. But we complemented each other, and we were better together than apart." A small smile lifts her mouth. "Our rings reflect that."

For a second, I just stare at her, and then back at the pair of rings on my palm. Slowly, a smile forms on my own face as I realize just how perfect this set is. I would never want Tris to change who she is to be more like me, and I know she wouldn't want me to change that way, either. We love each other as we are. And these rings show that more than any matched set ever could.

Before I can respond, Anna speaks again. "You have always had my blessing, Tobias. You've earned that many times over. But beyond that…you should know that I am very, very happy to have you in my family. I couldn't possibly have wished for Tris to find someone better."

Warmth spreads through me at the words – at this compete acceptance by Tris' only living parent figure – and at the incredible gift she's giving us.

"Thank you," I say softly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Anna's smile deepens. It's not a polite Abnegation upturning of the lips, or a wild Dauntless grin, but something from all the way inside her that lights her entire face.

"You are more than welcome, Tobias."

Very gently, I place the rings back into the box, closing the lid and just holding it, savoring the emotions going through me. Everything about this moment feels right.

"Can I invite Micky?" Anna asks, and my eyes shoot to her in surprise. But I don't even hesitate in my answer.

"Absolutely. Him and Luella, and Lauren, too." Because Anna is right. They're part of the history behind Tris' ring – part of how it already connects us. And that connection should definitely be part of our wedding.

After all, it will be part of the rest of our lives.

_**A/N: I should be able to post the next chapter within a few days. It's already written and reviewed - I just need to do the final tweaks, which hopefully won't take long. In the meantime, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Comments always motivate me to work on this story! :-)**_


	32. Chapter 32: Tris - Choosing Day, Part 1

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - you seriously make my day with your comments! Thank you also to Rosalie and BK2U, who both kindly helped me with this chapter at different points in its lifecycle.**_

_**This either had to be one long chapter or two short ones, so I opted to split it. On the bright side, that means you get this piece sooner. :-)**_

**Chapter 32: Tris – Choosing Day, Part 1**

Most of the time, we stay in Tobias' apartment. As a corner unit, it's more private, and I suppose we feel more at home there, since it's where we were first together _that_ way.

But we stayed in my apartment last night, so that's where we are when I wake up the morning of Choosing Day. Not that it's called by that name anymore. People can join and change factions at any time now, so there's no longer a day when all sixteen-year-olds make a choice that controls the rest of their lives.

Still, this day will always have special meaning for me, and as I sit up sluggishly, feeling Tobias stir beside me, I find myself remembering how this day started for me two years ago. That was the last time I woke up in the same house as my parents and brother. It was the last time we were all together as a family.

Heat starts behind my eyes at the thought, but I blink it away as I reach for the photo album that I still keep by the bed. The incredible gift that Tobias made for me during our year apart.

As I do so often, I flip slowly through the pages, lingering on each image of my parents. I wish there was a picture of them together, or of our whole family, but no matter how much Tobias searched, he wasn't able to find that. Nevertheless, I am so grateful to be able to look at their photos at all, since I had none before Tobias tracked these down.

My fingers are lightly tracing my father's face when Tobias sits up groggily beside me. I don't look at him, knowing that there are still tears in my eyes, but I'm sure he knows how I'm feeling, anyway. Silently, he wraps an arm around my waist, holding me close as he looks at the image with me.

"Did you ever meet my father?" I ask softly, speaking past the thickness in my throat. It's been so long since I saw Dad alive.

"No," Tobias murmurs, pulling me even closer in a comforting gesture. "I saw him sometimes, but we never talked. I wish we had."

I nod, letting the tears trickle slowly down my face now. "He was a good father. A good person."

Tobias brushes his free hand gently over my hair. It's meant as a soothing gesture, but it reminds me so much of Dad that it's painful.

"He would have liked you," I manage to whisper.

My boyfriend leans in, kissing me gently on the cheek.

"Did your mother?" he asks softly, his lips right by my ear. "When we met on Visiting Day?"

A low chuckle comes out of me despite the tears. "She thought you were handsome."

I can feel him smile against my skin. "That doesn't really answer my question."

"She didn't say much else about you." I turn a page in my album so I can gaze at her face. "But yes, I think she liked you."

We're silent for a moment as we both look at the photo in front of us.

"Do you think there's anything after this life?" I ask quietly.

Tobias hesitates, holding me close to him as he considers his answer. "Yes," he finally says. "I do. I wasn't sure for a long time, but now…I feel that way."

I turn my head enough to see his face. His expression is serious and gentle at the same time.

"My parents always taught me to believe in God," he continues after a moment, "but Marcus portrayed him as a fierce and punishing father figure. As someone to be feared." He gives a wry smile. "And I had too much of that in my life as it was."

He clears his throat. "So, after I settled into Dauntless, and started to feel free of my father, I decided I didn't really want the vision of God he pushed on me, either. And I guess I lost faith for a while."

"What made you change your mind again?" I ask curiously. Whatever it was, I could use it in my life right now.

"Honestly?" His lips lift a little. "The way I feel about you." His eyes are dark and filled with love. "I can't imagine that ever ending. Even with death."

My mouth opens as if to respond, but there are no words in me, so I let it close again silently.

"Think about it," he says softly. "You didn't stop loving your parents because they died, did you?"

My answer is immediate. "No, of course not."

"Well, do you really think they stopped loving you?"

I stare at him as all the questions and uncertainties in me come together slowly, into one coherent form. As I realize that he's right. And I shake my head, just a little.

"No," I murmur. "I'm sure they didn't."

He lifts a shoulder, giving me a small smile. "So, if that can continue beyond death, then why can't the rest of us? Or at least the most important parts of us?"

His eyes hold mine, and in that moment, I don't think I have ever loved him more. And it's as if that love connects beyond us, binding me to my parents and to God and to everyone I've ever lost. It's an incredible feeling.

Leaning up, I kiss Tobias lightly, on the lips.

"You're brilliant," I murmur. "You know that?"

His smile widens. "I do," he says teasingly. "After all, I was smart enough to choose you."

I smile, too, as I lean back into his arm, snuggling close to him. "I choose you, too, Tobias." His warmth spreads through me as I add softly, "Always."

* * *

I don't feel like shadowing anyone at work today, so after Tobias leaves for his job, I opt to retrace my route from two years ago, starting in the Abnegation sector.

At first, I plan to walk through the house I grew up in, but when I arrive, I can tell that someone else lives there now. At least, it seems so, judging by how tidy and well-kept the yard is.

So, I stand on the sidewalk in front of it for a while, debating whether or not to knock on the door. It's probably occupied by an Abnegation family, and they would certainly be selfless enough to let me wander through it if I asked. But I don't want to see their pitying expressions, or hear the type of comfort that my parents would have offered.

Instead, I gaze at the windows, remembering the last dinner I ate with my family. We talked about Marcus, of all things, and the Erudite article accusing him of cruelty. I wish it had been a kinder conversation.

Eventually, I move on, taking the bus to the Hub as I did two years ago. I remember holding Caleb's arm for strength as I entered the building, still trying to figure out what faction I would choose, and if I would abandon my family. I was so sure then that my brother would choose Abnegation.

Once I'm inside, I climb the stairs – the same twenty flights as last time – remembering how different it was to run down them afterwards, with the Dauntless.

My heart beats quickly when I enter the room where the Choosing Ceremony was held. It was so terrifying to stand in here, knowing that I had to decide the rest of my life in a single moment. Now, that seems like an impossible decision to inflict on anyone, let alone someone who still felt as young as I did that day.

Slowly, I walk through the room, finding the spot where I stood with Caleb and remembering the last words my parents said to us before they took their seats. My eyes move to where they sat – to where they watched us choose to leave them.

The tears threaten to fall again, but I blink them away, turning my gaze instead to where the bowls were. For so long, I felt like my choice led to my parents' deaths. After all, if they hadn't been helping me, they wouldn't have died the way they did. But now, standing in this room, I know more than ever that that simply isn't true.

If I had chosen Abnegation, I never would have learned to defend myself, or others. More importantly, I never would have met Tobias. And we never would have been able to stop the simulation. Or the rest of the war that Jeanine waged. Or NUSA's attack. My parents would have died in one of those battles, along with me and Tobias and the rest of the city.

The realization shifts something inside me, and I turn back to where my parents sat that day, feeling as if they're with me now, and are supporting me this time. Stepping forward, I imagine making the same choice again today – dropping my blood onto the Dauntless coals and then joining my new faction.

I leave the room as I did the last time, but with an imaginary crowd of screaming Dauntless this time. Running down the stairs and through the streets, I try to remember which of the other initiates I saw. I didn't know any of them then, but now I picture Will's celery green eyes as he asked me if we needed to jump on the train.

It's much easier to leap onto it this time, even though I don't take it often anymore. I half-expect to find people in the car, but it's empty, and I stare around, picturing the scared and energetic faces that surrounded me before. That was when I met Christina.

She and I jumped off the train together – my first time landing on the roof of the Dauntless compound. I imagine her hand in mine as I launch myself into the air today, landing much more easily than I did two years ago.

For a second, I look around the roof, grinning wildly from the energy of being back here. But then a lurch goes through me as I remember that a girl died that day. One of the Dauntless-born. I don't even remember her name.

The thought subdues me, and I walk slowly over to the ledge where we had to jump yet again that day – into the unknown. A half-smile lifts my mouth as I remember how Peter taunted me. He'll never be one of my favorite people, but he and I have come so far since that beginning.

For a long moment, I stand on the ledge, trying to feel the way I did the first time. But it's impossible to achieve that effect, since I now know that it's a safe jump. So, ultimately, I simply spread my arms and leap, letting myself enjoy the fall.

A crow of joy escapes unbidden as I surge toward the ground, feeling the darkness surround me in the moments before I hit the net.

The landing is as hard as I remember, but I laugh when I bounce up and down, feeling the thrill of adrenaline as I look up at the building above me.

I'm startled when a hand reaches toward me, offering to help me out of the net. I grab it automatically, using the firm grip to pull myself across the net and onto the wooden platform. As I stand, my eyes meet a pair of dark blue ones. A peculiar shade of blue.

A smirk playing on his lips, Tobias sets his hand on my back.

"Welcome to Dauntless," he murmurs.

_**A/N: I'm aiming for Wednesday to post the second part of this. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I know I say this a lot, but I really do appreciate your comments very much. They encourage me to carve out time to write and to post, and they make me feel good. I like that. :-)**_

_**By the way, a reader let me know about a new petition to request a different ending for the "Divergent" movies. If you're inclined to sign something like that (and it's fine if you're not), you can find the link on my tumblr page (windchimedwriter dot tumblr dot com - replace each " dot " with a period).**_


	33. Chapter 33: Tris - Choosing Day, Part 2

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to Rosalie and BK2U, who both reviewed this chapter at different points in time! This chapter is short, but hopefully it's satisfying anyway.**_

**Chapter 33: Tris – Choosing Day, Part 2**

I have no idea how Tobias knew I would be here, or that his presence would be the perfect comfort at this moment. I didn't even decide to retrace my steps from two years ago until after he'd left for work, so I certainly didn't say anything about it to him.

But he seems to understand what I'm doing without being told, as he so often does. And he gives me a tour of Dauntless the same way he did my first day here.

"We're about to go into the Pit," he comments, trying hard to keep a straight face, "which you will someday learn to love."

On our original tour, Christina interrupted him at that point, and he snapped at her in response, but today I finally hear the rest of his planned talk.

"It is the center of activity in Dauntless. You will acquire faction clothing there, as well as any other supplies you need. It is also where the dining hall is located, along with most of the recreational activities."

He pushes the set of double doors open, and I follow him into the space. Even though it's much more familiar to me this time, I can't help but be awed anew by the sheer size of the cavern. It hasn't changed much, and I watch as people race along the narrow paths that are carved into the rock walls. Their energy is palpable in the air.

After a while, Tobias continues. "If you follow me, I'll show you the chasm."

We walk over to it, barely noticed by the Dauntless who are wandering the Pit, going about their daily business now that there is no longer an initiate class to greet.

"The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy," Tobias begins, but then his words falter, and he stops. It's easy to tell why – he's thinking of the times that line was crossed during my initiation. When Peter, Drew, and Al tried to throw me over the railing, and when Al ended his life here shortly after that.

His eyes meet mine, and I take his hand, moving close enough for him to hear me over the roaring of the water.

"I think that's enough reliving of old events," I tell him. He nods, and we both turn silently toward the chasm, leaning on the railing as we look at the water striking the wall and the river far below us.

There are so many memories associated with this place. Tobias saved my life here. At the time, I thought that would be the only instance when I would need that kind of help, but now I realize that he saved me once even before that, by hiding my Divergence. And he's certainly saved me many times since.

We kissed for the first time by the river below us. In my mind, I picture Will and Christina and myself throwing papers from here, before I followed Tobias up to his fear landscape. That was when I learned his real name – and just how much we had in common.

I can't imagine my life if I had never met him. Turning toward him again, I look into those deep blue eyes, and I realize that I can't imagine a future without him, either.

"Tobias, will you marry me?"

The words come out on their own, but I know they're right. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and I'm fairly sure that he's been thinking the same thing. There's been a look in his eyes at times, as if he was about to ask me. And I don't want to wait any longer for something we both want.

My certainty disappears when I see his reaction. He stares at me, frozen, as if he has no idea whatsoever how to respond.

"Just like that?" he finally asks, his voice strained. "No planning, or figuring out the right way to ask? No speech…. Do you even have a ring?"

"Ummm." My voice trails off. "I figured we could pick those out together."

There's red rising on my face now and a weight sinking into my stomach. I was wrong. _He doesn't feel the same way._

He shakes his head, a strange sort of half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth now. Is he laughing at me?

"Tris, you really need to be better prepared for these things." He shoves his hands into his pockets as if he doesn't even want to touch me.

"Now, if you had a ring," he continues, his voice changing in a way I can't identify, "then you could do it like this, instead."

He drops to one knee as he removes his hands from his pockets. And now I'm the one staring at him as he takes my left hand and extends his other hand toward me, holding up a small, open box. Everything inside me freezes.

"Beatrice Prior," he says unwaveringly, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away, "you have changed everything about my life since you literally dropped into it two years ago today. You have helped me to grow, and to overcome my fears, and to become a better person. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And you make me fall more in love with you every single day. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be your family _officially_. Will you marry me?"

I seem to have lost the ability to speak. This whole time, he's been planning this. Somehow, he knew even before I did how I would spend Choosing Day, and he came here to propose in the place where we met. And then I startled him by asking first. Something inside me wants to laugh at the absurdity of my timing.

My gaze finally rips from his long enough to look at the open box. There are two rings in it – a man's and a woman's – and my eyes focus on the one he intends for me. It's perfect – simple, yet elegant, with a beautiful curve to the setting that holds the diamond.

It's also strikingly familiar.

"Is that…?" I stutter, reaching toward it automatically and running my fingers over it. My gaze shoots back up to Tobias'. _"Is that Anna's ring?"_

His smile is all the answer I need.

"How?" I gasp, thinking of the last time I saw this ring, on a pawn shop counter in Pittsburgh. How could he _possibly_ have gotten it back? We haven't been apart for even a full day since I returned to Chicago, and it takes longer than that to travel between the two cities.

Tobias' smile widens, and his voice is deep when he answers.

"Tris, for you, I will _always_ find a way."

I'm not entirely sure that I move, but I must, because suddenly my lips are on his, and my right hand is wrapping around the back of his neck as I kiss him with everything inside of me. He responds just as enthusiastically, twining his fingers with those of my left hand as his other arm pulls me closer.

"Is that a yes?" he murmurs when we finally pull apart enough to talk.

"Of course, it's a yes," I laugh. "I just asked you, too, you know."

"Yeah." He's grinning so widely, I'm surprised he can speak. "But mine was better."

I actually giggle, probably for the first time in my life, as I kiss him again. "I'll give you that," I whisper.

He pulls back, joy radiating from his entire face as he lifts Anna's ring – _my_ ring – from the box and slips it onto my finger. It fits perfectly, and for a moment, we both just stare at it. It looks absolutely _right_ sitting there.

"Your turn," he says, extending the box toward me.

For a second, I'm confused. "I thought men didn't wear a ring until the wedding?" I ask.

His chuckle is deep. "Since when have we ever followed the rules, Tris?"

His eyes hold mine almost challengingly, and I realize that he's absolutely right. We've spent the entire time we've known each other changing rule after rule and defining how we want to live our own lives. There's no need for us to care what people "normally" do.

"I want everyone to know that we're together," he adds firmly, and I nod, taking the box. My fingers shake slightly as I lift his ring out and place it on his finger. In this moment, it all becomes real. He'll be wearing this for the rest of his life. As my _husband_.

I can't help the wide grin that forms on my face.

His arms wrap around me as he finally stands back up in a single, swift movement, lifting me with him. Our lips find each other's again, and our bodies press together into one form, the crashing of the water surrounding us.

"Where were you originally going to ask me?" I murmur against his mouth.

"Where we first kissed." He sounds amused.

"Until I ruined the moment, huh?"

"You did," he says, setting me back down and lacing his right hand with my left. I can feel him pressing his fingers against my ring, enjoying the sensation. "But I'll forgive you." He leads me toward the hidden path that goes down to the river. "Particularly since it turned out kind of perfect."

I sigh, leaning my temple against his shoulder. "Completely perfect."

We walk in silence for a moment before another thought comes to me. "I do have one condition, though…."

"Oh?" He raises a questioning eyebrow.

"We should keep the name 'Prior.'" I bite my lip as soon as the words are out, suddenly wondering if it's too much to ask.

But he just smiles, pulling me closer to him as we continue down the path. "As if there was ever another choice," he murmurs.

_**A/N: What do you think - did I keep it non-cliché enough?**_


	34. Chapter 34: Tobias - Bachelor Party

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! That one got the most reviews of this story so far, and I really appreciate the support. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie, who proof-read this chapter on short notice despite being sick. It's a long chapter, so I know that took some work.**_

_**One quick note about the last chapter before I continue... Most of you seemed to agree with keeping the Prior last name, but a few people expressed confusion or disappointment, so I'd like to explain my reasoning.**_

_**According to the first two books in the series, in the "Divergent" world, surnames are rarely used and aren't tied into a person's identity the way they are in our current world. There, a couple chooses which surname to keep or picks a new one together, and it's only used as a secondary means of identification to avoid confusion when two people have the same first name.**_

_**For Tobias, the name Eaton was always associated with his father - and with no one else, since his mother stopped using the name and since his sister never used it. So, the name was connected to abuse and unhappiness with nothing redeeming about it. That's why he hid it when he transferred to Dauntless.**_

_**On the other hand, Prior is associated with Tris, and with her parents, who died to save her, and with Anna, who gave them their rings and has taken Tobias into her family. Between those two choices, it's a no-brainer that Tobias would want to use the Prior name. Really - wouldn't you?**_

* * *

**Chapter 34: Tobias – Bachelor/ette Party**

It's a good thing that Zeke set the precedent of having two best men at his wedding. That gave me an excuse to ask Kevin and Zeke to both serve that role for me, and given how much I'm inclined to kill my oldest friend right now, I'm glad to have someone else here with us.

"I swear to God, Zeke," I say in exasperation, "if anyone takes their clothes off, I'm leaving the damned party." My gaze turns to Kevin in a somewhat desperate appeal. If the two of us together can't keep the bachelor party under control, I'm not going to attend it.

"Oh, come on, Four," Zeke moans. "You've got to have a stripper there. It's your last night of freedom." At my stony expression, he adds, "Remember how much fun it was at my party?"

"No," I snap, even more irritated by the reminder. "Because I left that time, too. Remember?" Uriah invited a stripper to that event without my knowledge, and I spent several of the most uncomfortable moments of my life watching her dance around Zeke before she started to remove clothing – and I walked out as fast as I could. I didn't rejoin the party until a half-hour later, after she left.

"Tris is the only one I want to see that way."

Kevin nods a little, but Zeke just rolls his eyes. "What if she has one at her party?" he presses, causing me to give him a death-glare.

"Christina's smarter than that." At least, she'd better be, given that Tris left Shauna's party for the same reason I walked out of Zeke's. I'll never understand how my best friends could be okay with having each other watch…_that,_ but I know that neither Tris nor I want that kind of party.

"God, you can be such a Stiff sometimes," Zeke says in annoyance, his mouth flattening as he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me.

"There are worse things," I counter, meeting his gaze angrily. "At least Tris knows that she's the _only_ one I want. Can you and Shauna say that about each other?"

It's probably a good thing that Kevin intervenes at this point. "That's _enough_ – from _both_ of you," he snarls, his eyes drilling into each of us in turn. "What you're dealing with here is a cultural divide, so let me spell a few things out for you."

Gesturing to Zeke, he continues, "The Dauntless believe that people should explore their options. Shauna and Zeke both dated other people, and watched strippers, and whatever else." He waves a dismissive hand. "And then they chose to spend their lives together. To them, that's how you show love – that they picked each other over all the other choices out there."

A thread of guilt squirms through me as for the first time, I understand Zeke's perspective on this. Maybe I shouldn't have been so insulting.

"The Abnegation, on the other hand," Kevin adds as he gestures to me now, "tie sexuality, commitment, and love together much more strongly – and from a much earlier point in the relationship." He turns his gaze to Zeke again. "To them, watching a stripper, even before marriage, is like _cheating_. They believe that everything sexual should be part of a loving relationship, so turning to someone else for that is absolutely a betrayal."

He narrows his eyes at Zeke. "I'm not going to declare one view to be right and the other wrong," he insists, "but it's Tobias' party, so _our_ job is to make it one he'll enjoy. Kindly remember that."

A flush rises slowly up Zeke's face as he stares at the floor, his expression a mix of apology, embarrassment, and uncertainty.

"You don't really see it that way, do you?" he asks me quietly. Neither of us quite meets the other's gaze.

I lift one shoulder, not feeling any more comfortable with this discussion than Zeke seems to be. We're not in Dauntless anymore, but sometimes it's still hard to admit to my Abnegation roots.

"It's how I grew up," I eventually mutter.

Zeke gives a long sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "All right," he says resignedly. "No strippers." Our eyes finally meet, and a half-smile forms on his face. "But don't blame me if it's a boring party."

For the first time in this conversation, I manage to chuckle. "I'll take my chances."

"There are plenty of other things to do at a party, you know," Kevin comments, rolling his eyes at Zeke. "You just have to get beyond Dauntless traditions." He turns to me. "For instance, the bride and groom don't _have_ to have separate events. In Erudite, they often have a joint party, so if you'd prefer that, it's an option."

Zeke looks horrified. "How would that even be a _bachelor_ party?" he demands.

But the idea instantly appeals to me. I want to celebrate my upcoming wedding, not the fact that I'm technically still single, and having Tris there is far more fitting for that.

"Yes," I say firmly. "That's what I want."

Zeke groans, lowering his head into his hands, but Kevin smiles. "I'll arrange it with Christina," he promises as he gives Zeke a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry – it'll be fun."

* * *

It's impressive how well our entire faction stays silent. No one drops even a hint about what Christina, Zeke, and Kevin have planned. It's clearly driving Tris nuts, but it doesn't bug me nearly as much. I've kept so many secrets in my life that I guess I can put up with it when others keep one.

We get our first clue the morning of the party, when Christina yells through my door that we should wear old clothes. Personally, I breathe a sigh of relief at the instructions – we're obviously not going to a club or anything like that if she's having us dress down instead of up, and if we're going at this time of the day.

I'm not sure what to make of it, though, when we go to the gathering room and find it empty. It seems odd that they left Christina, of all people, to direct us to the event without giving anything away. Her Candor habits aren't exactly ideal for this.

Still, to her credit, she maintains an excellent poker face as she eats a quick breakfast with us and then ushers us out the door.

It's a beautiful day for whatever we're going to be doing – windy, as this city usually is, but almost cloudless and warm enough not to need a jacket.

"Is this an all-day party?" Tris asks, trying to squeeze information from her best friend, but Christina just smirks.

"You'll see," she quips before racing down the street ahead of us. We grin at each other before following.

Christina leads us toward the tracks, arriving just as a northbound train does, and she immediately begins running alongside it. Tris and I follow her, swinging into the car easily. Maybe this is why the others went separately – it's difficult for Shauna to navigate the trains, with her wheelchair, so she usually takes a car when she needs to travel longer distances.

My suspicions are confirmed when we stay on the train for a good half-hour, winding our way gradually into parts of the city that I've never seen before. Judging by the condition of the buildings, no one has lived here in a long time.

Tris and Christina chat, laughing at times, but I don't join in. It's been a long time since I leaned out of a train car to enjoy the passing scenery, so I take the opportunity to do that, feeling the wind driving against every part of my body as I hang onto the handles on either side of the opening and lean out as far as I can without falling. I was never a big fan of most of the Dauntless thrills, but I always enjoyed this one.

Eventually, Christina announces that it's time, and I step back to take Tris' hand while we wait for our friend to leap first.

She does, and we follow right behind her, landing on a large flat area that looks like it was once a playing field of some type. Like most of the parks in this city, it's now filled with whatever plants chose to grow over the course of the sixty years since it was abandoned, and we have to avoid those as we run a few steps forward to spread out our momentum and stay upright.

Christina leads us west over a series of cracked and uneven roads until we reach an old parking garage with a tower that rises well into the air. It was probably an elegant structure once, but decades of neglect have left it covered with smears of wind-blown dirt.

Hanging over the entrance is a large, hand-painted sign that reads, "Faction Challenge."

Christina glances at us before heading through the doorway, and Tris and I only pause briefly before following her. I haven't heard of this place.

The interior is darker than the outside air, mostly because walls have been erected to create a lobby of sorts, but only a few lights were added as part of that construction. Still, even in the dim light, I can tell that my entire faction is here, plus Kevin, Tori, and Tris' childhood friend, Susan. I suppose that means we're not doing anything too wild, since Susan is as Abnegation as they come.

"Nice of you guys to _finally_ show up," Uriah calls with a grin.

"Yeah, they 'slept' in," Christina answers suggestively, causing Tris to smack her arm in annoyance. Her friend just laughs as she claps her hands to get everyone's attention.

"All right," she yells. "Let's get started!"

Grabbing Tris and hauling her over to where Cara and Shauna are waiting, she calls, "We're going to team up men against women and play Faction Challenge."

It's not a game I've heard of, so I'm glad when Kevin goes into more detail.

"We will be facing a series of challenges that will utilize all of the skills from the original five factions. Both teams will compete, and we'll be evaluated on how well we embody the goals of each faction. The winner will be whichever team shows more of those qualities than the other."

"Who's the judge?" Tris asks.

"This place is run by former members of each of the old factions," Kevin answers. "They set up the challenges and will serve as our judges." He waves around at the group as he adds, "None of us have seen what they've set up yet, so we're all on equal footing."

Tris nods, and I can see the enthusiasm growing behind her expression. The same sensation is working its way through me – this sounds a whole lot better than Zeke's bachelor party.

"Four and Tris will be the team captains," Christina continues, "and as I said, it will be men versus women, so everyone get with your captain."

The guys waste no time surrounding me, Uriah giving me a mock salute as he jostles into place next to his brother.

"Oh," Zeke yells, looking like he just remembered something important, "there's one more thing!" Everyone turns to look at him. "The winning team gets to pick something that the other team has to do for them. A _favor_ of some kind."

I'm not sure I want to know what type of favor he's suggesting, so I'm glad when Christina objects, a frown on her face. "We never said anything about that."

"Are you afraid to take that risk?" Zeke asks pointedly.

For a moment, the two of them face off against each other, and then Shauna calls loudly, "Hell, no. We're going to whoop your asses!"

Tori cheers in agreement, and no one else protests. But I want some restrictions on this particular rule.

"Fine," I state loudly enough for everyone to hear me. "But the _captain_ of the winning team is the one who picks what the other team does." My eyes meet Tris', and I know we're both willing to agree to that. Neither of us would trust that role to certain other people here….

I'm just turning back to my team when Tris calls out clearly, "So, that means _I'll_ be picking, then."

My gaze shifts back to her as I absorb the challenge that's oozing from her tone. A pulse of adrenaline goes through me, and I can't help the grin that forms in response. _Nothing_ turns me on more than Tris being fierce and confident.

"Yeah? We'll see how those words taste when you eat them, _Stiff_," I answer in my best instructor voice. Behind me, Zeke and Uriah both hoot, and on the other team, Shauna gives a cat-call. But Tris and I just hold each other's gaze, both of us smirking, before we face our respective teams.

"Where do we start?" I ask Kevin, suddenly eager to begin.

"On the fifth floor," he answers, pointing to the corner where the stairs and elevator are. And then we're racing up the cement steps, shouting with Dauntless abandon as Tris' team immediately launches themselves after us. This is going to be _fun_.

* * *

Five people in the original faction colors are lined up in front of us when we pour out of the stairway. Shauna is already facing them, and I see her turn and smirk at Zeke as he breathes heavily beside me. I guess the elevator was faster than the stairs.

I study the room behind our judges as the others arrive, but it's difficult to see much, since a wall made of wood and cloth blocks our view of the challenge we'll be facing. All I can really tell is that there's an entrance on the far right corner of it.

"Everyone, listen up!" a woman in black shouts. "We're only going to tell you the rules once, so if you don't listen, you're going to lose." It's somewhat amusing how quickly the silence falls.

"In front of you is an obstacle course that includes Dauntless, Erudite, and Abnegation challenges. Each team will go through it as a group – one team first, and the other exactly fifteen minutes later. You will be timed on how long it takes you to get _every single member_ through it."

She glances around to make sure we understand before adding, "After that, you will enter a direct competition stage where the teams will face off against each other in Amity and Candor tasks."

Again, her eyes roam over the group to see if there are any questions, and then she asks, "Are you ready?"

There's a collective cheer of agreement, after which the woman directs my team to the starting point. Apparently, we're going first.

As we get into position, I take a moment to eye both teams, figuring out who the weak points are for this challenge. Shauna's paralysis will probably cause some difficulty with the Dauntless obstacles, depending on the nature of them. But she's tough, and she has built up significant arm strength, so I suspect she'll manage. Susan is probably the bigger liability for those skills, since she has very little muscle and probably doesn't have much endurance, either. On the other hand, she'll be good at the Abnegation parts, as Tris will.

In comparison, everyone on my team is in good shape, but that doesn't mean we don't have our own limits. I'm the only one with an aptitude for Abnegation, and we'll have trouble with any tight spaces we encounter, since our average size is considerably larger than the women's. We might also have a problem with overconfidence, between Zeke and Uriah….

My thoughts are interrupted by the woman who's running this challenge. "I'll count down from three," she calls loudly, holding up three fingers. "And you'll start on 'Go.'"

Nodding, I focus on the entrance ahead. Nothing is visible through the doorway, so there's probably a turn just inside it. Since the door is on the right edge of the wall, I'll assume it's a left turn, though it would be foolish to go too fast to handle other possibilities. For all I know, we'll drop straight down.

"Three, two, one…."

My entire body springs forward as she yells, "Go!" The others run with me, their shoulders bumping against mine as we race through the entrance, pausing just long enough to confirm that we do indeed need to turn left. From there, we jog for twenty feet before coming to a climbing wall that blocks the path behind it.

It's at least fifteen feet tall, and looking up, I can see a large cement spiral above it. This must be one of those parking garages that has an outer rim for cars to park on and a tight inner spiral for them to use when exiting. And the climbing wall takes us into the middle of that exit ramp.

I can't say I'm entirely comfortable with that, but there's clearly no choice except to climb it, so I ignore my residual fear of heights and grab a handhold. Zeke does the same thing to my left, and together we make our way to the top. I pause briefly once I'm there, looking around.

From here, I notice that there's a rope attached to a post at the top, ready to be tossed down to help team members who can't climb well. No one on my team really needs it, but I throw it down the wall anyway.

Zeke gives me a strange look, and I shrug before commenting, "Shauna will need it." I guess his love for his wife outweighs his competitiveness, because he just nods in acceptance before turning to what's ahead.

An arc-shaped room faces us, clearly built into the central spiral of the parking garage. Overhead rings lead across it to a platform that's some twenty feet away. Beneath them, a dark cloth covers the floor, hiding whatever is under it. It could be the drop to the ramp below us, or something else.

For a second, I hesitate, wondering if the more Dauntless action is to brave the unknown floor or to use the rings to cross the space. Before I can decide, Zeke launches himself at the first ring, and I realize he's probably right. After all, his instincts are more Dauntless than mine.

The two of us cross quickly, swinging from ring to ring without a problem, and the others cross behind us, one at a time. My arms are mildly sore by the time I reach the platform.

"Four," Zeke says, getting my attention, and I turn to see what he's looking at. A wooden wall covers the way ahead, except for a person-sized hole that leads to what seems like a tube slide. It curves out of sight within a few feet, so it's impossible to tell how long it is or where it leads.

"Should we chance it?" he asks me, but I'm probably not the best judge on this one. Going into an enclosed space without knowing where it exits – or if I'll get stuck in it – is like something out of my fear landscape.

"It's got to lead somewhere," Kevin says behind me. "It would slow the course down and cause too much damage if they let people get stuck in it every time someone comes through here."

He's got a point, but I can't help the sweat that's gathering on my palms. This isn't something I want to do.

Still, the only other option is to go down to the floor and see if there's a way out from there, and it's not worth doing that just because of a foolish fear.

"Okay," I say reluctantly, evaluating my team for a moment. "Zeke, you're smallest…." He laughs, accepting the challenge immediately. I can hear him whooping as he disappears down the slide. The sound echoes up strangely, sounding more and more like a scream the farther away he gets. Hopefully, that's just an illusion.

Eventually, there's silence, and I exchange an uneasy glance with Kevin. Before either of us can say anything, George says, "My turn" and pushes his way past us. He is the next-smallest, I suppose.

He descends silently, and Amar grins at me as he jumps in next. Clearly, he's not worried.

Uriah, on the other hand, gulps as he stares down the slide. "You really think it's safe?" he asks Kevin, who raises an eyebrow.

"It's more logical than the alternatives." He gives a half-smile. "Think of it as being like the Dauntless net – they're looking for a leap of faith."

Uriah nods, swallowing his nerves as he edges through the opening. His screams echo crazily behind him for a very long time before fading into silence.

Kevin thumps my shoulder reassuringly. Unlike most of the others, he knows my fears, so he realizes how hard this is for me.

"You'll be fine, Tobias," he mutters. I nod stiffly as I force myself to lie down on the slide, feet-first. My breathing is already rapid.

"Do you want a push?" Kevin asks from behind me, but I shake my head quickly. I need to do this myself. And reluctantly, I finally do, edging myself forward until gravity takes over.

My throat is too tight to scream as I plunge rapidly downwards at a steep angle, flying around curve after curve dizzyingly fast. The plastic tube feels tight around me, though some distant part of my mind realizes that there must be a decent amount of space, since my elbows only scrape the sides when I'm going through sharp turns.

The ride continues for far longer than I would have expected, given the platform was only fifteen feet above the floor, but eventually I realize that I must be sliding down the center of the garage to its bottom floor. It's somewhat reassuring to picture that in my head, instead of focusing on this endless slide.

By the time I reach the end, I'm going so fast I rocket out into the air, free-falling for a terrifying moment. And then I hit a large trampoline, bouncing across it in a strange skidding motion until I flail off the edge and into a pit filled with large pieces of foam.

For several long seconds, I lie there, panting to catch my breath as my eyes flit rapidly to everything around me. We're in another wooden room, with the concrete structure of the parking garage peeking through in places. Uriah is still in the foam pit, slowly making his way to an exit ladder that's some ten feet away. Zeke and George are standing on the floor near the top of it, helping Amar climb out behind them.

"You'd better get out of the way," Uriah calls to me. "Kevin will land where you are now."

Shit. He's right. So, I force my still-shaking limbs to drag me through the sea of foam pieces toward the ladder. It's very difficult to move through this stuff.

In total, it takes another five minutes before we're all on solid flooring and are ready to continue. The problem is that it's not at all clear where we're supposed to go from here. The only visible exit is a door that we quickly find is locked.

There is, however, an activity that we're obviously supposed to complete – one that involves a large, square swimming pool which sits on a section of the floor. Judging by its height, it's only two feet deep, but it's impossible to tell if it extends into the floor below that, since it's filled with a completely opaque black fluid. One that looks distinctly dangerous.

On the far side of the pool, a target hangs on the wall. And at the front of it, a wooden box holds an extensive collection of throwing knives.

"I think we're supposed to hit that target to unlock the door," George says thoughtfully.

Amar pats me on the shoulder. "Well, it's a good thing we have someone with perfect aim on our team."

Smiling a little, I grab a knife, weighing it in my hand to find the balance point as I evaluate the distance to the target. This isn't much different from throwing knives in Dauntless.

I breathe in, tunneling my vision on the target, and then I throw as I exhale. The knife misses the target completely.

Uriah's snort of quickly-suppressed laughter carries through the air, and Zeke mutters, "Wow, never thought I'd see that."

There's no hiding the flush that creeps up my face. I know it's been almost two years since I practiced this skill, but I should still be better than _this_.

Amar clears his throat. "Should _I_ give it a try?" he asks, clearly trying to hide his own amusement.

Annoyed, I grab another knife, only to have it do the same thing. This doesn't make sense.

"Something's knocking it off course," George says, frowning. "It starts straight and then drops much faster than it should." He walks around the side of the pool, staring into the liquid and then up in the air. On the other side of the pool, Kevin mirrors his movements.

After a moment, Kevin extends his arms over the pool, apparently checking for physical interference. George shrugs before doing the same thing from the other side.

"Here," Kevin finally says, holding his arm over a spot two-thirds of the way toward the target end of the pool. "There's a pull on my watch here – I bet there's a strong magnet under the liquid."

"Shit," George comments. "How big do you think it is?"

"Big enough," Kevin quips. He's clearly already decided that we can't throw past it and is thinking about other options. "I wonder what this fluid really is? Maybe it's just a scare tactic, and we can walk through it…."

He and George begin some type of analysis of the liquid, but my eyes return to the knives. There's a wide range of styles here – more than I would expect if they're all useless.

"Maybe some of these are plastic," I suggest. That catches their attention, and the group moves toward them all at once.

"No," I say firmly, waving them away. "We need to divide and conquer here. Kevin and George, finish what you were doing. Uriah, help me check the knives. Amar, see if there's a way to drain the pool." Turning to my best friend, I add, "And Zeke, look for something we can put over the pool so we can reach the target directly. A piece of wood or something."

They all turn to their tasks unquestioningly, though Amar pauses to meet my gaze, nodding approvingly. It's a recognition of leadership from one instructor to another, and I have to admit it makes me feel good.

Uriah is already pulling knives out of the box, rapping them with his knuckles and trying to bend them in an attempt to tell what material each is made from.

"I don't really know what I'm doing," he admits quietly, looking a bit sheepish.

My first instinct is to roll my eyes and respond sarcastically, the way he and his brother typically would. But part of me has been seeing him differently lately.

As much as I can't stand the fact that he kissed Tris all those months ago, the reality is that I wouldn't have gone back for Anna's ring – at least not when I did – if he hadn't done that, and if he hadn't told me about it. Which means that in some strange, twisted way, his kiss led to the chain of events that kept Tris alive in Greensburg.

I don't know if I'll ever bring myself to _thank_ Uriah for that, but it certainly makes me more willing to look past it and see him as a friend.

"Hit them against each other," I tell him, demonstrating by striking two blades together. A metallic clink sounds clearly. "If you don't get that sound, one of them's not metal."

His face lights up, and he quickly begins following suit. "Maybe you have an aptitude for Erudite after all," he says, grinning slyly.

My response is simply, "I'm trying." And indeed I am. It's the point of our faction, after all.

We're about half-way through the box when George and Kevin give up.

"Whatever it is," George says flatly, "_I'm_ not setting foot in it."

"Yeah, I have to agree," Kevin concedes, holding up a piece of ripped cloth that's soaked in the black liquid. It looks like he tore part of his T-shirt off and dunked it. Smiling grimly, he taps it on the floor, raising an eyebrow as it clunks – and doesn't bend at all. The substance seems to have rendered it as stiff as a board, and equally heavy.

"On the bright side, we might be able to make a beam to put on top of the pool this way," George says with a smirk. "You know, unravel our clothes and dunk them until they're solid…."

Amar snorts in laughter, and this time, I _do_ roll my eyes.

At that moment, Uriah clicks two knives together with a dull thunk. All eyes turn to him, and I grab the knives, quickly deciding which one is made of plastic.

"Everyone, get ready," I call, waiting for Zeke to make his way back to us and for Kevin to take up a position right by the door. "We don't know what will happen when this hits."

"_If_," Uriah says with a cough, but I ignore the jibe as I take my stance. My aim is not the problem.

And I prove that when I launch the knife directly into the center of the target. There's a distinct clicking sound, and then Kevin pulls the door open triumphantly. The others step aside to let me go first, and I lead my team into whatever is next.

* * *

_**A/N: To give you a heads-up, the next chapter probably won't be posted for at least a week, and quite possibly longer. I try to stay 2-3 chapters ahead of what I post, so I can iron out the flow before I lock a chapter in. However, I've been very sick and am now way behind in my writing. This chapter is the last one I have done. I decided to take a chance and post it anyway, but it will take me some time to get the next chapter ready. So, if there's a gap, it doesn't mean that I've abandoned this story or anything - I'll definitely be back.**_

_**In the meantime, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Your reviews always make me feel better, and I could really use that, since unfortunately I'm STILL sick... This particular cold and flu season truly sucks.**_


	35. Chapter 35: Tris - Challenges

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! It's been a VERY long week, and your reviews were about the only bright spots in it, so I truly appreciate each and every one of them.**_

**Chapter 35: Tris – Challenges**

I perch on top of the climbing wall, Christina beside me, as we survey the route ahead. Overhead rings cross the crescent-shaped room, leading to a platform some twenty feet away. Below us, a dark cloth covers the floor, so it's impossible to tell if there's a usable path there or not.

"You know they won't be able to handle the rings, right?" Christina murmurs, trying to keep our teammates from hearing her.

"Yeah," I reluctantly agree. Tori and Shauna would be fine, but there's no point in pretending that either Susan or Cara is up to the task. They don't have enough arm strength to cross the room that way. And even if they did, I have no idea how we'd get Shauna's wheelchair across with us.

"That leaves the floor," I add, staring at the dark cloth that covers it. The idea of dropping onto that is intimidating, but at the same time, it could easily just be a scare tactic.

"If you tie the rope around your waist, I'll lower you down," Christina suggests.

I flash her a smile as I agree. There's something very Dauntless about rappelling down the back of a climbing wall to explore an unknown surface below us.

It's even more like my old faction when I reach the end of the rope – while I'm still four feet above the cloth that covers the floor. It's not really a surprise. There has to be some bravery involved in this, after all, so of course I'll have to drop the last part without knowing if it's safe or not.

Vaguely, I realize that I should take risks like this more seriously, but after all the real dangers I've faced in my life, it's hard to be afraid of a game. So, I don't even hesitate as I untie the rope from around my waist and let myself fall.

My feet snag briefly on the cloth before hitting the hard floor that's directly below it. It was just an intimidation tactic, after all.

From here, I can see that the cloth rests on a grid structure of some sort, allowing it to cover the entire floor without being directly attached to the walls. That should make it easy to lift.

So, I do, pulling the nearest piece up to see what it's hiding, and then lifting the piece beside that and the next until I find the view I need. The sight makes me grin.

A twisting tube slide leads from the platform on the other side of the room down beyond sight, winding its way around a cement ramp that spirals through the center of the parking garage. And the floor I'm on _is_ that ramp, so from here, we should be able to just head down, following the slide to wherever it ends.

"This will work fine," I call up to Christina, noticing that Tori is now perched beside her. "Can you two get the others down here?"

Even from this distance, I can see my best friend roll her eyes. "Of course," she yells.

It doesn't take them long. They lower Shauna's wheelchair first, and then my faction-mate, followed by Cara and Susan, before they shimmy down themselves.

"Let's go," Tori declares the moment her feet touch the floor, a wild grin on her face from the drop. In that moment, her expression is utterly Dauntless, and it's enough to send Shauna and Christina racing ahead, laughing. It only takes me a second to follow suit, Tori by my side as Cara and Susan bring up the rear. I may not live in my second faction anymore, but it will always be part of me, and I will always love its energy and enthusiasm.

Shauna reaches the end first, the squeal of her brakes echoing up through the center of the garage as she calls out a warning. The rest of us skid to a stop beside her, staring at the panels of dark cloth that block the path ahead. The slide disappears through a hole in the material, so presumably that's where we need to go, too.

"Should we tear the cloth down?" Christina asks, eying it to see how sturdy it is, but I shake my head instinctively. We're guests here – we shouldn't make a mess that someone else will have to clean up.

Before I can respond aloud, Cara speaks. "We might lose points for damaging the course." I smile a little at the way the others nod. That's a valid point, too.

I guess it's not surprising that the two of us from Abnegation are the ones who step forward now. Susan and I have both done enough sewing in our lives to know that this much material can't all be one piece. There must be multiple panels that are either sewn together or that simply overlap each other.

Susan's lips lift as we both run our fingers sideways over the cloth, searching different parts of the large surface. "In something this big," she tells the others in her mild voice, "there's probably an opening, or at least a seam that we can tear without doing any real harm."

"Like this one," I respond as I separate two panels to expose an opening between them. Susan nods, taking one side as I continue to pull the other. The two of us hold the doorway open while the rest of our team heads through it, and I smile at my childhood friend as we then follow. Growing up, I certainly never imagined doing anything along these lines with Susan, and yet this moment feels completely natural.

On the other side of the opening is another wooden room – this one with a level, cement floor. Given the lack of a slope, we're probably on the bottom of the parking garage.

We cross the space warily, still following the slide that we were supposed to take, until we reach its end. It stops abruptly, some ten feet in the air, where it apparently launches its occupants onto a trampoline that leads to a pit filled with foam pieces.

"Damn – that's got to be a fun ride," Christina comments, assessing the route. I'm inclined to agree, but not aloud. It would make Susan feel bad to think that I took the less enjoyable route at my own party because she couldn't handle the overhead rings.

"You can climb up to the trampoline and jump if you want," I say instead. And for just a moment, she and Tori exchange a glance that shows they're considering it.

But Shauna shakes her head. "I'd rather beat the guys' time, which means we need to hurry." Given the contest, she has a point.

So, we continue across the room, trying to figure out what's next. It's not hard.

A large, square pool filled with black liquid sits against one wall, a target hanging above it. Nearby, a door looks like it probably leads to the next challenge, but to no one's surprise, it's locked.

"Anyone good with knives?" Shauna asks, pulling one out of a large box that rests by the end of the pool and gesturing to the target. She's right. It's obvious that we have to hit the bulls-eye to open the door.

Instantly, my mind goes to Tobias. He must have had a very easy time with this challenge. I'm not sure any of us are that good, but my gaze turns to Tori anyway. She's the only one of us who still lives in Dauntless.

"It's not my specialty," she admits, "but I'll give it a try."

Unfortunately, it quickly becomes obvious that her aim is lousy. None of her knives even reach the target. Shauna tries next, but with no more luck.

It's not until my turn that I realize there's more going on here than just our lack of skill.

"Something is knocking the knives off-target," I complain.

"Yeah, sure," Christina says with a laugh. "_That's_ the problem. Not that you all suck at knife-throwing."

"Actually," Cara comments, her eyes on the pool, "I think Tris is right." At Christina's skeptical look, she adds, "The knives aren't following a normal curve. They drop off too steeply."

I walk over next to her, staring at the ceiling above the pool and then down into the dark liquid that fills it. There's no obvious cause in sight. "What do you think it is?"

"The fluid, or the source of the interference?" Cara asks, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Either. Both." I sigh. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Christina is right – none of us have very good aim anyway." Looking around the room, I add, "We need to find another way to reach the target."

"We could wade through the pool," Tori suggests. "This stuff can't be _that_ deadly." But I frown. The liquid looks rather dangerous to me.

Reaching down, I dip the blade of one of the knives into the pool, pulling it out to see what it looks like afterwards. A tar-like fluid coats it, dripping slowly toward the handle before it solidifies in place a few seconds later.

"I don't know," I mutter, examining the now dry material. "It doesn't look at all safe."

"Definitely not," Cara agrees firmly. "I think we should see if there's anything we can lay over the top of the pool, so we can walk up to the target directly."

Nodding, we split up, searching the room for choices. I almost laugh as I stop at the second pool in the room – the one filled with foam pieces.

"There's a ladder here," I call to the others, reaching to see if it can be lifted out. At first, the answer seems to be no, but then I realize that it's held in place by a couple of latches that can easily be opened. And as soon as I do, it moves freely.

I've barely started pulling it up when Tori and Christina reach me, helping me lift it out of the foam pieces. It's plenty long enough to cross the pool, and we lay it across the end closest to the target, right by the wall.

Grabbing a knife, I carefully cross the ladder, resting a hand on the wall whenever I need to balance. It's definitely a lot easier than throwing knives from the other side of the pool, and I start to wonder if maybe our total time will end up being as good as Tobias' team after all. I guess it depends on how long it took them to use the rings and the slide.

I'm standing right by the target now, and I reach over, driving the knife directly into the bulls-eye. A click sounds, and I know instinctively that the door is now unlocked.

Cara swings it open as I scurry back to the floor, and then we're all heading cautiously into the next room. We're greeted by a bizarre sight.

A long, wide hallway lies ahead, the floor made of cement and leading to a door that has no handle of any kind. Overhead, envelopes of a wide variety of sizes and colors hang from the ceiling. Some are above our reach, while others are low enough to bump into our faces.

"Maybe one of those has a key for the door?" Christina suggests. But something tells me that this is more than a simple process of elimination. There's too much randomness in that, and this game is supposed to test our skills.

"Let's see," Tori states, grabbing the nearest envelope before I can stop her. She opens it, pulling out a small piece of paper. Her mouth puckers as she reads it.

"What does it say?" I ask, trying to ignore the vague sense of trepidation going through me.

Her eyes meet mine, and I'm reminded suddenly of all the dangerous moments that she and I have shared since we met. My bachelorette party shouldn't be another of them.

She clears her throat. "It says, 'Pick one to send through."

"One of us?" Shauna asks, "or one of the envelopes?"

"Presumably us," Cara answers, frowning a little as she looks at the door. "There's probably some additional challenge through there, and we're supposed to face it one at a time."

But I shake my head. "Why would there be so many envelopes, then?" The others look at me, and I add, "I mean, if we just go through one at a time, what's the point of all these?"

Cara nods, clearly understanding, and she extends a hand toward another envelope at the same time I do. We need to know what some of the others say.

Immediately, an intensely loud buzzer sounds. It echoes throughout the room, causing us all to slam our hands over our ears and cower away from the noise. It stops a moment later.

"What the hell was that?" Shauna demands.

Tori is the first to answer. "A warning, obviously." She looks around us with a slightly bitter expression. "Nobody is allowed to touch another envelope until we do what this one says."

The others nod uncomfortably, but my mind is racing ahead. We have no way of knowing what instructions the other envelopes will contain, or what's beyond the door. So, it's impossible to say if the person we "send through" will face a harder or easier challenge than the rest of us.

We also have no way of knowing what skill-set we need to keep in this room to handle what comes up next.

"So, who goes?" Christina asks.

"I'll do it," Tori begins, but the buzzer sounds again at the words.

"We get it!" I yell, my hands protecting my ears. "Shut it off already!" My last two words sound loudly through the silence after the buzzer finishes.

I give Tori a half-smile. "You picked the envelope, so you have to pick who goes. You can't go yourself, and the rest of us can't pick for you."

Tori nods thoughtfully, the frown back on her face. She runs her eyes over the group before saying, "Christina."

My best friend doesn't even hesitate before walking to the doorway. It opens for her, and she steps through. There's silence as it closes behind her.

"Do we wait?" Shauna asks after a moment, but no one knows the answer, of course.

"There's only one way to find out," I mutter, reaching for a yellow envelope that I have to jump a bit to grab. My fingers barely graze it, but it tumbles easily into my hand anyway. To all of our relief, there's no scream from the buzzer.

"Send one to fear," I read softly, feeling the words drop into my stomach.

"A fear simulation," Shauna says, nodding a little. "Probably." She opens her mouth to add something else but then closes it again, giving a wry smile. And I know why. I picked the card, so I have to be the one to pick who faces the challenge, but she wants me to know that she's willing to do it. I hold her gaze as I nod.

"Go for it, Shauna," I tell her.

To my surprise, the door opens as soon as she reaches it. Whatever Christina had to face must be done already – or else the challenge itself is held elsewhere. The latter seems more likely.

For a few seconds, I look back and forth among the remainder of my team. "Do you want to pick one?" I finally ask Susan. She smiles shyly as she nods, and I see her reach for a gray envelope.

"Send one to think," she reads aloud. Cara's eyes light up at the same instant my gaze moves to her. This one is an easy decision, and it doesn't take Susan long to make the request.

"Cara, would you do the honors?"

"Absolutely." Cara grins before heading out, and again the door opens for her immediately. The challenges must definitely be held somewhere else.

That leaves three of us. Glancing between Tori and Susan, I reach for a deep blue envelope that reminds me of Tobias' eyes.

The buzzer sounds shrilly before my fingers even touch.

"Okay, okay," I pant, trying to clear the sound from my head. Man, that thing is _loud_. "I guess we're supposed to take turns picking?"

It's as good a guess as any, and Tori gingerly reaches for a red envelope. We all breathe a sigh of relief when there's no punishing sound.

"Pick one to help," Tori reads. Her eyebrows furrow. "Does that mean I help one of you by picking you, or whoever I pick will help someone else?"

There's no way to know, but it doesn't really matter. Either way, Susan should have this one. She's Abnegation, and I don't want her having to deal with a fear simulation or whatever else might be hiding among the remaining envelopes.

It's against the rules to state that aloud, but I turn resolutely toward Susan and simply stare. Tori gets the hint quickly.

"Susan," she says. "I think this one was made for you."

My childhood friend hesitates as she looks at me. "Tris is as selfless as I am," she says softly, and in that moment, I know she's trying to give this challenge to me for the same reasons I want her to have it. But I just nudge her gently toward the door.

"Go ahead, Susan. I know you'll do well, and that will help our whole team."

She nods slowly before making her way to the door. She glances back right before she disappears, giving me a small, Abnegation smile. And then she's gone.

My eyes lock with Tori's again as I reach for the blue envelope that I started to grasp last time. We both know that she'll have to do whatever it says.

"Pick one to fight."

For a split second longer, we both just stare, and then we're laughing. This challenge is certainly a good fit for the woman who fought her way through Erudite, despite a bad leg injury.

"Have fun," I tell her with a smile. But the door doesn't open for her.

It takes me a moment to get it. "I think you have to pick a last card for me, before you can go."

She nods, reaching randomly into the air to grab a black envelope that's near the ceiling. She cocks her head at it before reading it slowly, her mouth pinched.

"Pick one for the unknown."

* * *

I walk through the door a minute after Tori. This is only a game, and I know it, but that doesn't stop my heart from beating faster as I move down the hallway on the other side of the door. There's no way of knowing what I'm about to face.

Images flash on the walls – photos of people I don't know looking frightened, or in pain. Did they complete the same challenge I'm about to tackle?

The hallway turns ninety degrees to the right, and I continue walking, feeling more and more nervous with each step. Gradually, I notice that there are doors on both sides of the hallway, but they're all closed. As a guess, they lead to the other challenges described on the cards.

Eventually, I come to an open doorway on the right, and I know immediately that I'm supposed to enter the room. By now, my hands are warm and clammy, but I wipe them quickly on my pants, refusing to acknowledge any fear that goes with the moisture.

The room is completely dark, and I fumble around for a light switch. Nothing presents itself, and I walk slowly in, still searching. I'm two steps in when the door swings shut behind me, leaving me in utter blackness.

It's impossible to say how long I stand there, the darkness pressing into my eyes. But after some unknown period of time, I begin to hear breathing. At first, it's slow and sounds distant, but gradually it seems to come nearer, and its pace increases.

Then, I can feel it – a hot breath on the back of my neck – and I spin toward it, striking out blindly in an instinctive attempt to defend myself. My hands collide with fur and pointed teeth, and I scramble backwards as a low growl vibrates through the air. Some enormous animal is threatening me.

_This isn't real._ It's a game. Someone is wearing a mask, or holding up a fake animal head.

But the thought does little to ease my rapid heart rate or to stop the panting that is emerging as I attempt to breathe.

"Who is that?" I ask, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. "Who are you?"

The only answer is another deep growl. What if it really is an animal – some bizarre creature fashioned by Erudite?

My back hits the hard wall behind me, and I realize that I'm trapped. Whatever this thing is can reach me now, and there's no way to escape.

With the thought comes something else – the kind of courage that emerges when you have nothing to lose. I have to fight back. That's what this challenge is about…to see if I freeze in the face of the unknown or if I tackle it head-on.

Taking a deep breath, I move a half-step away from the wall, and then I wait. My attacker is clearly bigger than I am, and that means that I need to take Tobias' advice from so long ago. I need to let it get close, so I can use my elbows and knees – and so it's too close to use its own limbs well.

It seems to take forever, particularly because the growling is echoing too much for me to judge distance. But finally, I can sense it a couple of feet away. And then a foot and a half. And a foot….

Lunging forward, I drive my elbow hard into the form before me, at what would be the solar plexus of a person that height. _If it's human._

A soft _oomph_ sounds as the air is knocked out of it, but I don't pause. That would only give my opponent time to counter. Instead, I bring my knee up with every bit of strength I possess.

"Ow, god, Tris…" a voice hisses in pain as the form drops to the floor. Even in the darkness, I can tell that my "enemy" is now curling into a ball.

"Shit, that hurts!" It's little more than a whine, and it sounds utterly miserable – but also familiar.

"Uriah?" Even with the agony making his voice high, it's unmistakably him. "What the hell were you doing?"

"This was my challenge," he manages to gasp. "To scare you."

My mouth falls open, but then the lights are turning on, and I'm holding my hands over my eyes to block the brightness as people enter the room from somewhere. It's difficult to make out details through their cacophony of voices, but I can hear Zeke and Christina laughing uncontrollably and Amar muttering, "I'm _so_ glad I didn't get that card."

But it's Tobias' chuckle that makes me look up through the light that's assaulting my eyes.

"Sorry," he tells Uriah, who is curled on the floor wearing an absurd werewolf mask as he cups a distinctly male part of his anatomy. "But that one was kind of inevitable." Turning to look at me, he smiles as he adds, "Tris is a _very_ good fighter for her size."

_**A/N: Hopefully, it won't be as long before the next chapter is posted, but I can't guarantee anything right now. I'm still sick, and busy at work, and on top of all that, I broke a tooth and have to get it fixed. It broke while I was eating soup, of all things - seriously, how does that even happen?**_

_**Anyway, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Reviews always make me feel better. Thanks!**_


	36. Chapter 36: Tobias - Amity and Candor

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and everyone who wished me luck with my tooth and general health. I've started the crown process for the tooth, so it's okay for now but still needs more work. In the meantime, I finally seem to be past the worst in this flu/infection/cold thing - hopefully, I'll stay better this time!**_

_**Anyway, thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**This chapter was an absolute blast to write. Hopefully, you have as much fun reading it...**_

* * *

**Chapter 36: Tobias – Amity and Candor**

Tris' team ends up winning the first round. We beat them by a half-minute on total time, but they edged us out enough on faction traits and on the individual challenges to win overall. It's not too surprising, between the way Tori beat George in their fight and how Tris literally flattened Uriah in their challenge.

Our hosts give us lunch next, letting us refuel before we start the direct competition stage, which includes Amity and Candor challenges. So, we gather in the room where most of us have spent the last fifteen minutes waiting – once we got through our individual challenges – and we eat sandwiches and fruit.

"You didn't face _any_ kind of challenge?" Tris asks Christina, shaking her head in disbelief as she leans against my side.

"Nothing." Christina laughs. "It turns out that's what the card meant by sending someone through – I literally walked past all the doors and came out here, and these guys told me I was done." She points up to the monitors that line the walls of the room. "And then I watched the rest of you face your challenges."

"What did _you_ have to do?" Tris asks me as she sniffs distastefully at her sandwich. She doesn't seem to like the flavor.

"An Abnegation challenge." I frown. "A group of masked figures were throwing balls at a dog – like they were trying to stone it or something. I had to shield it." I don't tell her that I'll have plenty of bruises tomorrow from my efforts, because that's largely my own fault. For one terrifying minute, I felt like I was a child again, and all I could do was huddle there with the dog pressed to my chest while taking the abuse on my back.

"Is that what Susan had to do?" Tris looks concerned now, and I don't blame her. Her friend is considerably more fragile than I am.

But I shake my head. "No. She thought her challenge had just started when a girl walked in, saying she was lost. She had to choose between continuing the challenge to help her team or stopping to take care of the kid." I shrug. "Not surprisingly, she helped the girl."

Tris nods, looking around the room at the others. "What do you think the Amity challenge will be like?" she asks thoughtfully.

"No idea." A small smile touches my lips. "And even if I knew, I certainly wouldn't give my strategy away to _you_."

She laughs. "Oh, come on. I don't even have anyone with an Amity aptitude on my team. Whereas, you have _two_ of them. It would be selfless to share, you know."

"Since you clearly haven't noticed," I respond, keeping my tone teasing though the subject is a little more serious now, "Amar isn't participating in the next challenge. He can't, for obvious reasons."

"Oh." Tris looks embarrassed that she didn't think about his brain damage – and about how he still has to avoid too much Amity exposure. She glances around again before adding, "Is that why he and Cara are both gone?"

"Yeah. Apparently, she didn't really want to do this challenge, either, and our hosts wanted to keep the teams even, so she pre-arranged for both of them to sit it out."

Tris nods, still looking thoughtful. She picks at her sandwich some more. "This tastes bad."

"Do you want the rest of mine?" I offer. It's my second one, anyway.

But she shakes her head, frowning at her food. Something like recognition sparks in her eyes, and she looks around, biting back some remark.

"I'm going to get some fruit," she comments abruptly, rising and pulling Christina with her toward the buffet table. My eyebrows draw together as I watch them stop to talk to Tori, before they each head in a different direction to discuss something with their other team members.

And I figure out the same thing Tris did.

"The bread is laced with peace serum," I announce to my team. I can't believe I didn't guess that sooner. "Eat the fruit instead." But as I look at my friends' empty plates, I know that it's already too late. They ate fast – and helped themselves to seconds – as I did. By the time the challenge begins, it will have sunk in, and we'll all be thoroughly stoned.

I can only hope that most of the women ate an equivalent amount for their body weight before Tris stopped them.

* * *

I'm in _such_ a good mood as the Amity challenge begins. Vaguely, I realize it probably has something to do with the peace serum, but I feel too light and happy to care.

"What are we supposed to do, again?" I ask Kevin, nudging him in the ribs to get his attention. He'll probably remember, since he lives in Erudite and all.

He frowns a little. It's such a strange expression, really, turning a smile upside down like that. It makes a chuckle emerge from deep in my throat.

"We're supposed to pick the fake fruit from those fake trees," he tells me, looking like he has no idea why we would do something so idiotic. "And put it in those buckets. Whichever team has harvested more by the end wins."

"Oh." I stare at the large wooden climbing structures that are supposed to pass as trees. Climbing them doesn't really appeal to me, though I'm not sure why not. Something to do with heights.

My gaze wanders off with my focus, flitting from person to person until it lands on Tris. I'd much rather spend time with _her_ than pick plastic fruit.

"Why are we competing, anyway?" I ask my team curiously. But judging by their blank expressions, they don't remember any more than I do.

"'Cause if the women win, bad things happen," Zeke says with a strange laugh. He waves his hands through the air, his fingers moving in mesmerizing flickering motions. "Like evil magic things."

A frown finds my face now. That doesn't sound right.

"I like it when Tris wins," I say in confusion. Grinning at a sudden memory, I add, "You should have seen her when we won Capture the Flag. She was _hot_." For a long moment, I stand there, savoring the image before I realize that people are starting to move around us.

"Shit," Zeke says, looking at the blurry world. "I think the challenge started."

"Yeah…." My eyes take in the swaying motion of my teammates, and the not dissimilar stumbling from most of the women. "I'm going to find Tris."

She's at the top of one of the artificial trees, tossing plastic fruit down to her teammates, who are trying to catch it by swinging baskets wildly through the air. It has the effect of batting the fruit all over the place.

"Tris!" I yell, waving at her happily as an apple smacks into my arm. "Come down!"

For a moment, she pauses, staring at me. And then she bites her lip, looking cute and sexy all at once.

"I'll be down in a little while, Tobias," she calls. She seems like she wants to laugh. I'm not sure why she doesn't.

"Nah, come down _now_," I try to convince her. "I want to kiss you." That should work. She likes it when I kiss her.

"Um," she says hesitantly, scrunching her eyebrows together as she considers me. "We're really supposed to pick this fruit first…."

"But it's not even real." I scratch my head in confusion. We can't eat plastic. "They have real fruit back in the lunch room if you're hungry." I'd forgotten that she ate almost nothing at lunchtime. She must be starving. "I'll get you some."

"No, Tobias…." She pauses again, looking conflicted as her gaze shifts between me and the fruit surrounding her. She lets out a long sigh. "Hang on. I'm coming down."

The smile lights my face again as I watch her lithe form descend toward the ground. She jumps from the lowest "branch," and I step forward quickly to catch her.

This time, she does laugh – a sweet, musical sound – as I swing her around in my arms and carry her to the base of a more private tree.

"I can't say this challenge seems particularly fair," she murmurs to me. At my confused look, she sighs again, patting my cheek lightly. "But when I was under this stuff in Amity, you were very…patient…with me. So, I figure I owe you this one."

I nod, despite the fact I have no idea what she's talking about. "Can I kiss you now?" I ask, smiling widely. That seems better than talking, particularly when words are so hard to understand.

She chuckles. "We probably shouldn't, given how stoned you are."

It's difficult not to feel disappointed. "But you're _always_ allowed to kiss me," I tell her firmly. "We're getting married, you know."

"Well, yes, I know that," she begins, flustered. "But that doesn't mean I should take advantage of you."

"How would that be taking advantage of me?" I ask, trying very hard to figure out what she means. "We kiss a lot." Smiling, I run my nose along her jawline before whispering in her ear, "We do other things, too." My grin widens. "Things that I like…a lot."

She giggles. "I like those things, too," she agrees. "Very much. But we're not doing any of them here, okay?"

"Oh." The disappointment is back. "Why not?"

"Tobias." She stops, biting her lip again in a way that drives me crazy. She leans forward, kissing my nose gently. "You're just going to have to trust me on this. In an hour, you're going to feel very differently about this conversation."

"I am?"

"Yes." Her voice is firm. "Definitely."

"But I'll still love you, right?"

She smiles. "Tobias, you will always love me. And I will always love you. We're just not usually so…public about it."

"Hmm." I nod, realizing that she's right about that. We're usually much more private for some reason. Unlike Zeke…. I watch as he streaks past us, stark naked. He's yelling something incoherent.

"He promised there wouldn't be any stripping today," I say thoughtfully, watching as he races by Shauna, who is cheering enthusiastically. Right now, I can't remember why I objected, but maybe Tris does, since she's deliberately looking away from Zeke.

I follow her gaze to where Christina and Uriah are taking turns throwing plastic fruit into one of the buckets.

"Christina!" Tris yells. "You want the other bucket!"

But Christina just waves cheerfully before making the next throw. It's a particularly good shot, thrown over her head as she stands with her back to the bucket, and I can't help cheering along with Uriah when it lands right where she wanted.

He grins widely before picking her up and tossing her as far into the air as he can. He catches her around the waist as she comes back down, and then he kisses her happily on the lips. I watch, smiling, as she wraps her legs around him, returning the kiss passionately.

"See, _they're_ kissing," I comment with a laugh. But I stop when I remember something. "Uriah kissed you once, didn't he? I didn't like that."

"I didn't, either," Tris says softly, and my smile returns with the words. It feels good to think that Tris is just mine.

"Still, I guess it's good that he did it," I admit, running a hand lightly up my fiancé's arm. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have gone into my fear landscape, or gone to Pittsburgh, and then I wouldn't have met Micky, and Lauren wouldn't have hired him, and you would have died in Greensburg." The thought makes tears form in my eyes. "And that would have been the worst thing in the world."

Tris is staring at me, looking utterly confused. Maybe I should explain more, so I try to put my jumbled thoughts in order.

"I married Micky, you know." And then I laugh, realizing what that sounds like. "Well, no, I didn't _marry_ him. That's what I'm going to do with _you_. But I performed a marriage ceremony for him." Frowning a little, I add, "No, that's not quite right, either. He and Luella were already married. There's another word for it…."

"Tobias, what are you talking about?"

But I can't remember the word for a second wedding. It's right there, on the tip of my tongue, and it's annoying that I can't recall it. "Kevin will know," I say brightly, suddenly realizing that. "He's Erudite, and he was there, too."

Shifting Tris out of my lap, I stand quickly, looking around for my sponsor. He's here _somewhere_.

I spot him on the other side of the large room, throwing fruit back and forth with George.

"Hey, Kevin!" I yell, running toward him. "I have a question."

"Four, catch!" George calls, tossing the apple in his hands toward me. I grab it easily before launching it at Kevin.

"What's your question?" Kevin asks as he throws the fruit toward George again.

My mouth opens to answer before I realize that I've completely lost the train of thought. Oh well, if it's important, it'll come back to me.

"Why is Zeke naked?" I ask instead.

"Beats the hell out of me," Kevin answers with a laugh. "Maybe he got hot."

That makes sense. It is pretty warm in here, after all, though I think I'll keep my clothes on. Part of me remembers that I don't like to strip in front of anyone except Tris.

My eyes find her again, on the other side of the room. She's staring at me with a very strange expression, like she's too shocked to know if she's angry or happy or just plain confused. Well, I'm sure she'll figure it out. Life's too short to worry.

So, I turn back to my friends, continuing to play catch with them while Zeke races around the room naked and Shauna zooms after him, tossing her own clothes behind her, and Christina and Uriah kiss like they'll never stop. This is a fun challenge.

* * *

"On behalf of the entire staff, I apologize profusely for that incident," the woman in Amity yellow tells us. "We have a new chef, who apparently mixed up the instructions and added _far_ too much peace serum to the bread."

She flushes red, the color offsetting her bright lemon shirt. "If you would like, you are free to redo the challenge now that you have…recovered from the effects."

But we all immediately shout some version of _NO_. I doubt that any of us can accurately recall the events of the last two hours, but we _all_ know that once was more than enough.

"Who won, anyway?" Zeke asks, looking thoroughly embarrassed. It's easy to figure out why, given that he and Shauna were both naked when we began coming to our senses sufficiently to notice. Who knows what they did during the challenge itself?

"Technically, the men's team did," the woman answers, "but in fairness, I think that half of the fruit was added by the women's team, so I'm not sure it should count."

"Hah!" Uriah yells, thrusting his fists victoriously into the air. "That should definitely count!"

"Absolutely not!" Christina protests.

Something shifts uncomfortably in my stomach as I watch them, a vague image of them kissing going through my head. Did they have their first kiss while stoned out of their minds?

"Christina's right," Shauna adds. "We should toss this whole round out."

"Like hell!" Zeke objects. "You wouldn't be saying that if you'd won."

My gaze shifts to Tris, wondering what she thinks of all this. If I recall correctly – which is highly debatable – she ate almost none of the bread, so she might be the only one to remember the last two hours.

But she's looking at the floor, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. The expression on her face is impossible to read.

"I'm okay with tossing the round," I tell the others. "It doesn't seem fair to count it."

My teammates glare at me in some mixture of horror and annoyance, before Tris' voice cuts through their arguments.

"No, you can have this one." Her gaze meets mine briefly, and I realize how confused and upset she looks. _Did I do something while on the peace serum?_

"You earned it," she adds before returning her attention to our judges. "Let's just move on to the next one."

They nod, declaring my team the winner before leading us to the next level of the parking garage. A series of circles are painted on the floor, and they line our teams up on them so we're facing each other.

"Normally, we use a low dose of truth serum for this activity," a man dressed in black and white tells us. "But under the circumstances, it seems like a bad idea to put anything else into your bloodstreams, so we've modified our usual challenge."

_Good_, I think. I no longer have secrets to hide, at least not like I did the one time I was interrogated under truth serum, but that doesn't mean I want it injected into me again. I like to have a choice over what I say.

"The rules will be as follows," the man continues. "Each team will take turns asking questions. During your turn, you will pick a member of the other team and ask him or her a question. If that person answers truthfully, their entire team will move forward one circle. If the judges feel that the person _lied_, their entire team will move backwards one circle. As an alternative, the person can choose not to answer. In that case, he or she will move backwards one circle, but the rest of the team will not move."

He glances around to make sure we're all following his explanation. "The first team to get all of its members onto the center circles wins. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Christina says. "Can we pick anyone on the other team each turn?"

The man frowns at her. "You must alternate who asks questions and who you ask them of. No one can ask two or more questions in a row, and you can't pick the same person for two or more turns in a row. Also, you cannot ask anyone the same question more than once." It's a reasonable set of restrictions, and I'm glad to see them.

"Very well," our instructor adds. "We will begin with the woman's team."

Shauna speaks up before anyone else can. "Zeke, what did we do during the last challenge?" Her face is red.

"I have absolutely no idea," he answers solidly. For a second, they just stare at each other, and then Shauna nods, clearly accepting that his memory is as blank as hers. My team all moves forward, one circle each.

"Tori," Zeke says, turning to his former faction-mate. "Are you Divergent?"

She looks as surprised by the question as I feel, though I have to admit it's something I've always wondered.

"No," she answers, her mouth flat. "Apparently, I'm close to it, but not quite enough to resist the simulations."

For another moment, we're silent as we debate whether or not she's telling the truth. An image goes through my mind, of her blank eyes as she shot an Abnegation leader through the head during the mass simulation. And I decide to accept her response.

At my nod, her team steps forward.

Tori doesn't take the opportunity to ask the next question, presumably still rattled by what she was asked to divulge. After an awkward moment, Susan speaks up instead.

"Amar," she asks softly, "how long were you a trainer in Dauntless?" It's such an Abnegation question – utterly non-invasive – and Amar chuckles as he answers.

"Twelve years." We all step forward a circle.

"Cara," Amar says lazily, "have you ever had romantic feelings for anyone in this room?"

She looks vaguely disgusted. "Ew. No." She flushes as she realizes how insulting that sounded. "I mean, no offense or anything, but none of you are really my type."

I laugh as I wave her team forward. It's honestly hard to imagine Cara falling for anyone in our group, though I've occasionally wondered about her and Caleb when he's joined us for meals.

"Kevin," Cara says, "why did you choose Erudite?"

He hesitates, frowning, and I don't blame him. His answer isn't too different from why I chose Dauntless.

"Because I was brave enough to go to the most dangerous place a Divergent could go." His voice turns icy as he adds, "And smart enough to get the hell away from my father."

It's the first time I've heard him openly admit that he's Divergent, though I've suspected it since I first met him.

"Christina," he says abruptly, turning away from Cara, "describe your feelings for Uriah."

The question catches us all off-guard, and we stare between him and Christina in stunned silence. Christina and Uriah have been getting slowly closer for months now, but no one has called either of them on it – at least not in front of the other.

Christina flushes deeply, shaking her head as she steps back a circle. She's refusing to answer, though that's a type of answer in itself.

"Uriah," Tori snaps, her voice caustic as she glares at Kevin before turning her attention to my younger faction-mate. "Same question about Christina."

"Umm," Uriah stammers, looking deeply uncomfortable. His eyes flit around the room frantically, trying to focus on anything except Christina. "I don't know, exactly." He swallows and then finally seems to find the strength to look at her.

"I guess…." He rubs the back of his neck. "I guess I would like to explore the options."

For a very long moment, there's complete silence as we all watch the two of them. Christina seems incredibly nervous, staring at Uriah with her lower lip between her teeth. After an eternity, she nods, very slowly. It makes Uriah beam in response.

"Um, Tris," George says, clearly trying to break the awkwardness. "What's the biggest secret that you're keeping from someone in this room?"

She opens her mouth, her expression confident, and I know she's about to say that she isn't hiding anything. But then she freezes, shock showing in her eyes as she closes her mouth abruptly. Her eyes flick over her teammates, pausing on Susan, before she steps backwards a circle.

Cold runs through me at the sight. She promised never to keep secrets from me again, and I thought she was keeping that promise. _What is she hiding?_

My breathing is rapid when her eyes turn to me. For a second, she just holds my gaze, and then she shakes her head slightly. And I realize that whatever secret she's keeping, it's not from me.

My relief disappears as her expression shifts. There's a hardness on her face now, and her voice is strained when she speaks.

"Tobias, how did you meet Micky?"

For a surreal moment, I think that I'm dreaming this, or that she must be talking about someone else with the same name as the man who had her ring in Pittsburgh. But then I remember the way she looked as we came out of the Amity challenge, and I realize that I must have said something while under the influence of the peace serum.

_Shit._ This wasn't how I wanted to tell her.

"It's a long story," I say, somewhat lamely. The set of her mouth is the only answer, and I nod a little as I realize that she does indeed want to hear it all now.

"Just so you know," I add, "I wasn't keeping it secret. Not really. It was just difficult to explain, but I would have found a way before the wedding. Seeing as Anna invited him to it." The side of my mouth lifts, but Tris just looks startled. I guess I didn't reveal earlier that Anna knew about this.

"Okay." I clear my throat, trying to figure out where to begin. "I actually got your ring back over a year ago. When you were still President, before the elections." Tris nods, and I know she must have figured that part out already.

"I…found the pawn shop where we left it, but it had already sold. It apparently sold right away. The store's owner didn't have the buyer's name or anything, but he recognized you in my broadcast, so he wrote down everything he could remember about the buyer, and he kept that information in case we ever came back."

"When Kevin and I showed up, he gave it to us, and…we…well, we tried to figure out who the buyer might be. See, he was young, and he paid in cash, which was very unusual, and that meant there were limited options for who he could be and how he would have that much money. We eventually concluded that he must have been stealing from the companies that supported NUSA."

Understanding flashes through Tris' eyes, and she murmurs, "Which means he must have been highly resistant to the Suggestibility Serum."

I nod. "Yes." My gaze holds Tris' as I continue. "We went to the main police station in Pittsburgh to try to get information on thefts of that type, and we ran into Lauren there." Tris nods, and I can tell she's putting the pieces together. "She helped us, and we were able to track down a young man named Micky. He had bought the ring for his wife, Luella."

My throat is dry, and I clear it again before resuming my story. "He agreed to sell it back to me, because of…who you were, and who I was. Though he asked me to perform a ceremony renewing their vows, with their new rings. So, I did that." I can feel the flush rising up my face with that memory, but I ignore it. "And then Lauren hired him, and his sister, because she wanted resistant people on the police force."

Tris' expression is frozen now, but I can see emotion growing in her eyes as she understands the full sequence of events. That makes it difficult to keep my voice steady as I finish. "Kevin and I returned to Chicago, and I gave the ring back to Anna when she came here to meet with the city leaders. And that was the last I knew about the whole thing until you showed me what happened in Greensburg."

Our eyes are so firmly locked at this point that I can't imagine ever looking away. "And right there, in your memory, was the same young man…."

Tris swallows visibly, and her voice is thick when she speaks. "Micky was there because of you?"

"Indirectly, yes. He was there because of the ring on your finger."

Finally, Tris looks away, staring at her engagement ring, her breathing hard. There's confusion on her face when she looks up again. "But we weren't even together then. Why did you go back for it?"

My gaze shifts to Uriah, and I debate giving the full answer, but I don't want to get into it right now. Not with everyone here, and not minutes after Uriah just admitted to liking Christina. I certainly don't want to spoil their moment with a reminder of a kiss from a year and a half ago.

So, I answer with the most important part of the truth. "You deserved to have it, for whoever you ended up with. Even if it wasn't me."

Abandoning her circle, and the game with it, Tris walks slowly toward me, her eyes fixed on mine. "Tobias," she whispers as she reaches me. She touches my cheek lightly. "I wouldn't have wanted it from anyone else."

A small smiles forms as I lean my forehead against hers. "Well, I'm still glad I went when I did."

She nods against me. "I am, too." She pulls away enough to see my face. "Since it saved Caleb's life. And mine, too." She shakes her head a little in disbelief, and her voice is rough when she continues. "You just get more and more amazing, you know."

I chuckle, but at the same time, the statement warms me deep inside. I wasn't sure how she would react to all of this, and to have it bring us even closer together…. There are no words for that.

My hands shape themselves to her face, and then I'm pulling her to me as I kiss her so deeply I forget that we're in a room full of people, playing a game that we're supposed to care about winning. There is absolutely nothing in the world right now except her.

"I love you, Tobias," she whispers when we finally break apart.

"I love you, too." I've never told her, but ever since the first time she admitted her feelings in my father's old house in Abnegation, that's been my favorite word to say. _Too._

"Should we just call this a tie and go home?" she asks, apparently remembering that we're surrounded by people who are staring at us in confusion. None of them know this full story.

Judging by the instant reaction to her suggestion, they don't particularly care about it, either. Or at least not enough to call the game a tie. It's obvious from their protests that they want to _win_.

But I don't. What I want, more than anything at this moment, is to be alone with the woman I'm getting ready to marry.

"Sorry, guys!" I tell them firmly. "It's been a great party, but your team captains are leaving now."

As we walk past them down the ramp, I hear a mix of groans and cat-calls. But Amar pats my back, and Kevin nods approvingly.

It's Zeke's reaction, though, that makes me grin. "Oh well," he says to the others, "we must have done a good job. It's the first time he's left a party with a girl."

_**A/N: I personally loved this chapter. I hope you did, too. :-)**_


	37. Chapter 37: Tris - Rehearsal Dinner

_**A/N: Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews of the last chapter! I really appreciate the support. Thank you also to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie.**_

**Chapter 37: Tris – Rehearsal Dinner**

In Abnegation, there's no such thing as a wedding ceremony. It would be selfish for the couple to focus on themselves, so instead they do the minimum required to make the marriage legal. The two stand before one of the faction leaders as they exchange vows and rings and then sign the paperwork, and that's it.

The closest thing they have to a celebration is that the families share dinner together afterwards, if they live in Abnegation. That formalizes the union.

For a brief time after Tobias and I became engaged, we considered following that tradition. Neither of us wanted to wait long to be married, and since we didn't grow up with any expectation of a ceremony, we didn't have anything specific that we wanted to do for it.

But it didn't take long for us to realize that our faction-mates would kill us if we deprived them of a celebration. So, we opted instead for a service similar to Zeke and Shauna's.

And then spent the next two weeks panicking about how to actually make that happen, given our total lack of experience with the subject…. Fortunately, our friends and family members began stepping forward to help at that point, as soon as they saw how much we needed it.

Christina took charge of coordinating the event – and of taking me shopping every weekend to find the perfect dress. Anna enthusiastically agreed to officiate, and Caleb was beyond thrilled when I asked him to escort me down the aisle. Margaret begged to be our flower girl before Tobias even had a chance to ask her, and Kevin volunteered his son to be our ring bearer before we had time to begin wondering who, if anyone, would fill that role.

Even the location was handed to us, when Amar and George revealed the rooftop garden that they'd spent weeks carefully putting together on top of our building. It's a breathtaking space, yet simple, and is absolutely _right_ for us.

Between all of their efforts, everything comes together smoothly with barely any work on Tobias' and my part. Instead, we spend our days renovating the second floor of our building, since after considerable debate, we decided to move into an apartment there once we're married. The faction needs more common space, and we want the extra privacy of living a little apart from the others, so it seems like a better choice than moving into Tobias' current place.

Besides, sooner or later, the faction is going to need a second floor, given how many people have been asking to join. And since Shauna is now pregnant.

Oddly, _that_ reality makes me more nervous than the upcoming wedding. I know that I want children someday, but not yet, so I'm glad when Tobias makes it clear that he doesn't think he'll be ready for kids for a few years. That timing definitely works for me.

We finish the new apartment several days before the wedding, moving most of our possessions into it but keeping just enough in Tobias' current one to stay there for now. We want our first night in the new place to be right after we're married.

Once we're done with the renovations, we immediately turn our attention to setting up my old apartment for Micky and Luella. They'll be staying here during their visit from Pittsburgh, while Lauren will stay in the room next to Zeke and Shauna – the one they'll use as a nursery after the baby is born.

Our three guests arrive the day before the rehearsal dinner. Adam must have driven them, but he doesn't come upstairs – presumably instead heading to his room in Anna's house so he can sleep after the long drive. That's okay. We'll see him soon enough, at the wedding.

Anna is the one who escorts our guests into the gathering room, where we're all sitting around in conversation after dinner. I rise automatically to greet her, Tobias beside me, but she hangs back with our two quieter visitors while Lauren steps forward first.

"It's good to see you both again," Lauren says, extending her hand Dauntless-style to me and then to my fiancé. As Tobias shakes it, she adds, "You finally found the guts to ask her, huh?"

He just raises an eyebrow, keeping his face straight as he answers. "No. She asked me." He still finds that particular fact amusing.

Before Lauren can figure out how to respond, Shauna bumps her way past us, clearly wanting very much to greet her old friend. I smile as I watch them embrace and begin chatting, but for a moment, I have trouble reconciling the current with the last two times I saw Lauren. When she was putting me and Caleb into a car and rushing us out of Greensburg to safety. And long before that, when she was covered in blood as we sent her into the unknown with little chance of survival while we continued on an insanely dangerous mission without her.

It's amazing that we all lived to see this day.

The thought brings me to our other guests, and I feel another shock of memory as my gaze finds Micky. I certainly never doubted that Tobias was telling the truth about our connection through him, and through my ring, but it feels utterly surreal to see him here. In my mind, he's peering at me from a nearby building, offering hope on one of the darkest days of my life, and I feel a fresh surge of affection toward Tobias for causing him to be there when I needed help the most.

Beside him, a woman who I assume is Luella is looking around, wide-eyed. Conditions in the UCA have improved dramatically over time, but I know that this place must still seem luxurious to those who grew up in NUSA.

Tobias steps toward them, shaking Micky's hand firmly as the two stare at each other silently. This is the first time they've met since Greensburg, and I'm sure it's an emotional moment for both of them.

"It was a pleasant surprise to be invited," Micky finally says, his expression showing how honored he feels. "I didn't honestly expect to see you again."

Tobias shakes his head, clearly at a loss for words. "Of course we invited you," he finally answers, his voice low. "After what you did….." He turns to me for several long seconds before focusing his gaze on Micky again. "I can't express how grateful I am for everything you did in Greensburg."

Micky smiles a little, but there's a deep seriousness behind it. "You don't owe me anything for that." His eyes flick to me and back to Tobias. "Either of you. I was incredibly glad to be able to help, after everything you've both done for all of us."

He chuckles before adding, "Besides, you weren't kidding when you showed us what Tris could do. All I had to do was get her a gun, and boom – she was out of there on her own. I didn't do enough to earn your thanks."

I don't contradict him, but his words do nothing to reduce the gratitude that I feel toward him. To me, he will always be the man who saved Caleb's life.

Instead, I step forward to greet him, and somewhat to my surprise, I do it with a hug instead of a handshake. With all the connections between us, I can't help but feel close to him.

"Thank you, regardless," I murmur. And I can feel him nod against me.

When I release him, he turns to the woman next to him, pulling her gently to his side. "This is my wife, Luella," he says. There's pride in his voice, and I smile instantly, seeing clearly how much he loves her. Her lips lift, too, as she reaches out to take my hands in hers.

"I'm so glad to meet you," she tells me shyly. "It feels like I've been hearing about you forever, and it's such a privilege to actually get to talk to you. Let alone to attend your wedding." The words touch me deep inside.

"You know, I feel the same way." I give my fiancé a soft smile before returning my attention to Luella. "Tobias has told me a lot about you."

She nods, her expression sweet, as she reaches one hand out to rest on his arm for a moment in greeting. But when she releases both of us in favor of leaning on her husband, I realize just how exhausted they are. Of course they'd be hungry and tired after such a long trip.

"Can I show you where you'll be staying?" I offer quickly. "And get you some dinner?"

"That would be wonderful," she murmurs.

* * *

We end up spending a quiet evening together – Micky, Luella, Anna, Tobias, and I – talking about life under NUSA and now in the UCA, and about what Pittsburgh is like these days. They ask countless questions about Chicago and about my term as president, and they freely share details about the previous time they met Tobias. When he gave them new rings to replace mine – and then used them in a ceremony to renew their wedding vows.

It's a thoroughly enjoyable visit, and by the time we part ways to go to bed, I feel even better about the ring on my finger. It binds us all together – the three women in this little group who've worn it, and the men who gave it to each of us – in a way that's beyond words. And as I snuggle against Tobias' chest a little later, once the two of us are alone again, I can't imagine how anything else could ever symbolize our love as much as this does.

* * *

We hold the wedding rehearsal on the rooftop, enjoying the clear, warm air as everyone practices the flow of the ceremony. Kevin's wife, Miriam, plays wedding music on her keyboard, and their son, Michael, carries our rings on a small pillow with clips to ensure they don't fall off.

It's admittedly difficult to remove my ring for the short time before Tobias slides it onto my finger again, but it's worth it to see the light in his eyes as he does so. And my stomach squirms with pleasure as I realize that by this time tomorrow, we'll be _married_. Truly and permanently. It can't get here soon enough.

But by the time we're done with the rehearsal, it feels like tomorrow will _never_ get here. Christina makes everyone practice over and over to ensure that nothing can possibly go wrong, and whenever I think she's finally satisfied, Anna interrupts to point out something that wasn't quite right. I know they both have the best of intentions, but I'm thoroughly worn out by the time they finally declare we can eat dinner.

Tobias links his hand with mine as we lead the procession to the dining hall. Courtesy of Evelyn, we have guest cooks for tonight and tomorrow, and I can feel everyone relax when we reach the main floor of our faction and smell the amazing meal they've prepared.

We crowd around the table, using extra chairs we pulled in from all of our apartments, and begin passing the dishes around as quickly as we can. Everyone is hungry by now.

That's probably why we eat in virtual silence for the first ten minutes, people speaking only enough to ask for a particular dish to be passed. But gradually, the conversation builds, fractured into a dozen simultaneous discussions around the large table. I laugh as Margaret's description of her upcoming debate mixes with details of Shauna's pregnancy test, making it sound like she's arguing against peeing on a stick.

We're all interrupted by the sound of Zeke clinking a fork against his glass.

"I think we've reached that point," he says with a grin, "where we get to harass my friends under the guise of toasting their future."

"Yay!" Shauna calls, immediately lifting her own glass. "I'd like to start." Smiling, she turns her attention to Tobias.

"Four, the first time I saw you, I thought you were absolutely out of your mind to be transferring to Dauntless. You were skinny, and dressed all in gray, and I thought there was no way a Stiff like you would make it through initiation. But I have to say that you surprised me."

She hesitates, and her face turns serious as she continues. "I would have been factionless – or worse – if you hadn't taught me to fight, and if you hadn't protected me from Eric." She swallows hard. "Because of you, I had two years with my sister that I wouldn't have had otherwise. I will always be grateful for that. And, of course, for saving my life after I was shot."

Her gaze moves to me. "I don't even know where to start with you, Tris…. When you first transferred in during Lynn's initiation year, I felt like history was repeating itself. A Stiff taking first place, and fighting back against the things that were wrong in our faction…." A half-smile lifts the side of her mouth.

"And then I found out that you were Divergent, and I let a bunch of stupid stereotypes override my common sense." Her expression is sad now. "But despite my whole family's stinking attitude, you saved my brother's life, and then turned yourself in to the Erudite to protect the rest of us. And I was left realizing that you were a _far_ better person than I was."

She shakes her head a little, and I feel a strong urge to tell her that she's wrong, that I'm no better than she is at all. But Tobias squeezes my hand hard, and I know he doesn't want me to interrupt. Shauna needs to get this out.

"I'm not sure exactly when I realized that you and Four were perfect for each other," she continues, her voice softer now. "I suspected his feelings early in initiation, when you visited the fence on your field trip. There was just something about the way he looked at you. And he was _so_ obviously jealous of the other guys around you, though he didn't want to admit it."

There are scattered chuckles around the table at that statement, but a twinge of sadness goes through me. That was one of the last conversations I had with Robert before he died on our mission. Before he died _alone_, while the rest of us fought off the NUSA military. I've never told Susan that particular detail about her brother's death – it doesn't seem like something she needs to hear – but at moments like this, it still bothers me.

"Regardless of the timing," Shauna adds, "it quickly became clear that Four was head over heels about you. And that you felt the same way." She lifts her glass farther upwards, in a toast to us. "You two are a damned good couple, and I wish you a lifetime of the happiness you deserve."

The others call, "Hear, hear" as they tilt their own glasses towards us. I clink mine against Tobias', exchanging a small smile with him before we both sip. The liquid is some sparkling, fruity drink I've never had before, and I make a mental note to keep my intake low in case it contains alcohol. Presumably, it doesn't, though, since Shauna and Margaret and Michael are all drinking it.

"Well," Zeke says, seizing the opportunity to speak next. "I _do_ remember exactly when I realized that the two of you liked each other. Or at least when I knew that Four was smitten." He grins, and I hear a low groan from Tobias next to me. He clearly knows what moment Zeke is about to reveal.

"It all started with him having a very bad day during training and wanting to get drunk…."

* * *

It takes a long time for our friends and family members to toast us. Each one talks about how they met us, and when they realized we were in love – and why they're certain our future together will be perfect.

A wide range of emotions goes through me with the revelations – from tears at Cara's talk about how she learned to forgive me for Will's death and to view me as a friend, to laughter at Christina's Candor observations of us. But regardless of what each toast evokes, I love them all, and they make me feel even closer to Tobias – something that I would have said was impossible before this evening.

We've all finished eating, and Margaret and Michael are playing pool in the other room, when Caleb finally starts his toast. He's had an emotional day, too, since he just learned about Micky's connection to Tobias today, and I see the residual shock in his eyes as he clears his throat to speak.

"It would be impossible to truly sum up how I feel about either of you," he begins, "or how you've affected my life, or even what I think about your relationship. But I'm going to try…."

Not surprisingly, he starts with me. "Beatrice, I never gave you enough credit growing up. I looked at the world so literally then, and whenever you didn't fit into the exact model of Abnegation behavior, I looked down on you for it. That was really dumb of me."

I can't help laughing at his blunt statement, and he gives a wry grin of acknowledgement as he continues. "I have since learned that it's a very good thing to have more than one aptitude in this world. And I've come to realize that you're a much better person than I am. Stronger and braver and more selfless, and even smarter."

He holds my gaze as he adds, "I hurt you so much, and yet you helped me over and over. You saved my life, and you forgave me, and you somehow kept loving me. I don't deserve to still be part of your life, after everything I did wrong, but I'm so glad that you let me be there. I love you, Beatrice."

For a moment longer, his eyes stay on mine, letting me know how much he means the words, and I feel my own answering love for my brother echoing back. It warms me all the way through.

He turns to Tobias next, and there's a long pause as he clearly struggles with what to say. I'm sure he had his speech planned out before he saw Micky today, but now he looks overwhelmed.

"I owe you so much, too," he finally says, his voice soft. "Starting with all the ways you helped Beatrice, and the city, and me." He glances at Micky and then back again. "But mostly, I owe you for how much you love my sister."

He clears his throat. "You showed me two broadcasts, and those changed my life more than I can ever express. They showed me what love really is, and why it's worthwhile, and how it can reshape us. And…you showed me so much more than that."

He takes a deep breath. "You showed me that it's possible to make terrible mistakes – ones that we'd give anything to be able to take back – and to somehow still be a good person. You showed me that we can recover, and learn, and grow – and that we have a _responsibility_ to do that. And most of all, you showed me _how_ to do it – how to become a better person."

There are tears in my brother's eyes now, and I fight the urge to walk over to him and comfort him. But I know that he wants to say this, so I just listen.

"That's the reason the whole country followed your message, you know. You dared to admit to everyone that you were flawed. That you had done things you regretted with every fiber of your being. I could understand that, and I think a lot of other people could, too."

Across the table, I can see Micky and Luella nodding, but no one makes a sound as Caleb continues. "I will always be grateful that you sent the broadcast you did. Not just because it ended the war, and saved all of our lives, but because it helped me to change in ways I didn't even know I needed."

His last words are so soft, I struggle to hear them. "It is an incredible honor to be part of your wedding. And it will be my privilege to call you my brother for the rest of my life."

* * *

_**A/N: The next chapter is the wedding, but I'm afraid it will probably be at least a week and a half before I post it. I'm going out of town for the weekend and will have very limited time for writing during the week after that. So, don't expect it until March 4 or later. But don't worry - I'm not abandoning this story! :-)**_

_**Anyway, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Thanks!**_


	38. Chapter 38: Tris - Wedding

_**A/N: I ended up with more time to write this week than I thought, so you're in luck. This chapter is almost a week earlier than I expected!**_

_**Anyway, thank you so much for all of the lovely reviews of the last chapter. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

* * *

**Chapter 38: Tris – Wedding**

I have never been more excited. It sends a sort of wild energy through me that makes it virtually impossible to stay still as Christina applies my make-up in her currently-very-messy room.

"Stop squirming," she gripes as she swats my arm. She's currently trying to use a brush of some type on my eyelashes. "If this smears, I'm going to have to redo everything from the last ten minutes."

"Sorry," I mutter, deciding not to aggravate someone who's holding a pointy object near my eyeball. But I can't keep the grin from returning to my face. It's impossible not to be in a good mood right now.

Christina smiles a little, too, despite the stern façade she's attempting to portray. "Just hang on for a few more minutes," she implores me. "I'm almost done."

True to her word, she sets the make-up aside a few minutes later and removes the cloth that was protecting my dress. She helps me to my feet next, walking around me and pulling at the fabric in a few places to make sure everything is right.

Finally, with a last tweak, she stands back to admire her handiwork. She's silent for so long that I start to worry.

"You look beautiful, Tris," she finally murmurs, her eyes starting to water. "Absolutely beautiful." Managing to smile despite her teariness, she gestures to the full-length mirror hanging on her bedroom wall and adds, "Take a look."

And I do, hesitantly at first, since the Abnegation instincts that are still deep inside me will never be comfortable with mirrors. But once I look, I can't stop staring. Despite how long it seemed to take, Christina kept my make-up light enough to appear natural. And somehow, she made me look flawless and radiant.

My hair is pulled back in a loose bun – a reminder of the first faction I shared with Tobias – and my short white veil flows from the back of it behind my head and shoulders, framing me and making me shine even more. It also accentuates the white pearl earrings that dangle from where they're clipped in place on my ears, since I never did get them pierced.

My shoulders are bare, leaving my face and dress to capture all the attention. And the dress is perfect. It probably started life in Candor, since when we selected it, it was white with an overlay of fine beads that turned gradually black as they descended down the skirt. But as her wedding gift to me, Susan spent countless hours replacing alternating lines of black beads with blue ones, causing the dress to reflect differently with every movement so that it now looks like a bit of every faction except perhaps Amity.

It's not a problem to leave that faction out. There's so much happiness radiating through me as it is that I don't need anything external to indicate it.

Slowly, I turn in place, watching the dress shimmer lightly, reflecting gray and blue and white and black as I gaze at my reflection.

"So," Christina asks, her voice a bit anxious, "what do you think?"

"It's incredible, Christina," I whisper, stopping to look at her. "Just…incredible." Her face lights up with a grin, and she reaches to hug me before apparently deciding not to risk messing with the beauty she just spent so long creating.

Instead, she turns to look at the clock. "We're right on time, too. I just need ten minutes to finish getting myself ready, and then we can head up."

I nod, staring at myself in the mirror again. Never, in my entire life, did I expect to look like _this_.

A soft knock sounds on the door, and I cross the room to answer it, since Christina is now in the bathroom.

Cara gapes at me for a moment before smiling widely. "Wow," she says quietly. "You look _really_ good, Tris."

"Thanks," I answer a bit shyly. I've only heard Cara comment on my appearance once before, and that was when I overheard her in Candor talking about my long nose. It's a definite change to have her compliment me now, and to see how genuinely she means it.

"Is Christina here?" Cara asks, seeming to abruptly remember why she came.

I turn toward the bathroom just as Christina emerges again. Her eyes meet Cara's, and our friend walks quickly over to her.

"You're not supposed to panic about this," she whispers, presumably trying to keep me from hearing, "but Michael is sick, so Kevin and Miriam left him with a baby-sitter."

"Then what are we doing for a ring-bearer?" Christina hisses, clearly flustered.

"Uriah said he'd take care of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Christina demands. "We can't just have some random kid play the role. Who is he getting?"

"I don't know," Cara admits, biting her lip uncertainly. "He just said he could handle it."

Christina glares, running her hand through her hair in frustration before snapping, "He'd better, or I'll kill him." The words tell me it's time to intervene. My best friend has done a wonderful job of handling the most stressful parts of the wedding, but she clearly needs some help letting this go.

"It's okay," I tell them both, walking over to them. "If we don't have a ring-bearer, Zeke or Kevin can hold the rings. The best man does that sometimes, right?"

Christina looks like she might hyperventilate, but after a moment, she swallows her reluctance. "I suppose…" she mutters.

I clasp her hands lightly, smiling reassuringly at her. "It'll be fine. Now, finish getting ready. I want to get married."

She nods slowly, returning to the bathroom as Cara asks, "Should I let them know you'll be up soon?"

"Yeah, in nine minutes," Christina calls out. Cara smiles at me as she leaves.

* * *

There's a screen set up to hide me from the audience when I exit the stairway. It seems a bit silly to me, but Christina is adamant that no one should see me until the right moment, presumably so they can all be stunned at once by her hard work.

So, I stand there listening to the murmurs of the audience while Shauna and Christina fuss over the details of my dress, making sure it flows to their satisfaction. When they're finally satisfied, they take a moment to check each other, but they're both beautiful in their dark blue dresses with wide gray sashes. They mirror the groomsmen's gray suits and blue ties.

I smile a little as I watch them, noting how the colors complete the presence of every faction in our surroundings, given the enormous quantity of red and yellow flowers planted all around the rooftop.

Christina turns to me again, taking my hands and giving them a squeeze as she meets my gaze. Her eyes are moist, and I don't think I've ever seen her look happier or prouder.

"Are you ready?" she whispers, her voice catching.

"I've been ready for weeks," I answer without hesitation. And it's true. There is nothing I want more than to marry Tobias _right now_.

Christina smiles as she leaves to join the rest of the wedding party while I watch from a gap in the screen.

Anna walks down the aisle first, looking very Dauntless with just a hint of Candor in her white dress that's covered with black lace. She takes her place at the front, where she'll officiate, before turning her attention to the groomsmen as they start escorting the bridesmaids behind her.

Amar and Cara go first among them, followed by Zeke and Shauna, and finally Kevin and Christina. It was difficult for Tobias to limit his groomsmen to just those three, since it left Uriah and George out of the ceremony, but everyone understood that a wedding party can only be so big.

Briefly, I look for them among the audience, but I can only find George. Uriah must be working with whoever he found to be the replacement ring bearer.

My heart leaps into my throat when Tobias steps forward next, walking confidently down the aisle with his mother by his side. He stands tall and proud, every aspect of his body language radiating his happiness as he seats Evelyn and then moves to stand beside Zeke and Kevin. But it's when he turns toward where I'm hidden that I feel my entire chest constrict at once.

I have never seen Tobias look as handsome as he does today. He wears a black tuxedo with a gray tie and cummerbund, reflecting his two previous factions, and his expression is eager as his gaze seems to seek me out through the screen that's blocking his view. There's no question that he's waiting for me, and it's all I can do not to head toward him immediately.

But Margaret is next, and I force myself to stand still as she scatters red and yellow petals from her basket all along the aisle before taking her seat. Even from behind, I can tell that she's grinning from ear to ear.

Michael should come after this, but since he's sick, I watch to see who is taking his place. The laughter from the audience alerts me before I actually see what's happening.

Uriah is crouched to make him appear shorter, and he's shuffling down the aisle in awkward goose steps as he holds the pillow high, showing the rings to the audience. He's taking Michael's place in a far more literal manner than I would have guessed.

The laughter grows as Uriah approaches the front, his movements getting funnier the longer he continues them, but I find myself looking at the bridal party to see how much trouble my friend is going to be in for this.

Zeke is in obvious hysterics, and Tobias is grinning. Christina, on the other hand, looks absolutely shell-shocked. She stares, as if she can't decide whether this is perfect or if she's going to kill her maybe-boyfriend.

Finally, Shauna breaks down laughing, too, and Christina gives in, smiling as she shakes her head in disbelief. Uriah sidles up next to Tobias, crouching on his knees and holding the pillow up in the same position that Michael practiced. The entire audience bursts into cheers, and I see Tobias and Uriah exchange some comments I can't hear. They're both clearly amused, though, so I'm not worried about it.

In fact, there's something fitting about seeing Uriah in this role. He was indirectly involved in retrieving my ring, after all, so why shouldn't he be indirectly involved in delivering it to me today?

But I don't dwell on the thought, because now it's my turn. The music changes, and the audience quiets immediately, all attention focused on Caleb as he steps toward me. He extends his arm in a clear invitation, smiling deeply.

I don't hesitate to join him, linking my arm with his before we both turn to the front – to where Tobias awaits.

Our eyes meet instantly, despite the distance between us, and I can't seem to look away as I walk toward him. He's staring at me, wide-eyed, an expression of awe and joy filling his features. And for a moment, I don't think either of us remembers to breathe. Right now, all that matters is that we're finally here. _We're getting married._ The thought makes a wide grin split my face.

My attention is drawn back to the others when Caleb pulls me to a gentle stop. I face him again, and he gazes at me wordlessly for several long seconds, pride filling his eyes, before he kisses me on the cheek. I squeeze his arm in return, blinking away the few tears of happiness that seem to have suddenly come out of nowhere.

My brother gives Tobias a nod to officially signify his approval as he places my hand lightly in my fiancé's, before slipping away to take his seat. Tobias' fingers lace with mine, and I face him as I take the final step to my place right next to him.

"You look incredible, Tris," he murmurs, clearly forgetting all about the audience as he stares only at me. And to be honest, I'm having a hard time remembering that anyone else exists.

"You do, too," I whisper back, standing on tiptoe to touch my lips to his, even though we haven't reached that part of the ceremony yet. But he clearly doesn't care, either, as he pulls me against him, kissing me back with undisguised enthusiasm.

The cheers bring us back to the moment, and I can feel myself flushing with embarrassment as we pull apart and turn to face Anna.

"Shall we begin?" she asks, her voice laced with amusement.

Tobias' answer is firm. "Yes. I can't wait to marry this woman."

"Clearly," my grandmother mutters, chuckling lightly. And then she starts her speech.

It's difficult to focus on the words. I'm vaguely aware that she's talking about the tradition of marriage and the importance of it in our lives, but my gaze keeps wandering to Tobias. And every time it does, I find his mesmerizing blue eyes already looking at me. It becomes harder and harder to look away each time.

I don't notice when Anna finishes talking, but abruptly I realize that Tobias is facing me, his expression intense, and I know it's time for our vows. He holds my left hand in his, looking directly into my eyes as he speaks.

"I, Tobias, take you, Beatrice, to be my lawfully wedded wife." He smiles from deep within. "To have and to hold, forsaking all others, through good times and bad. For richer or poorer. Through war and danger and imprisonment. Through insanely risky missions. And through peace and calmness too. Through sickness and in health. With or without a faction. With or without anything, really."

He reaches his free hand up to lightly caress my face. "You're it for me, Tris. You have changed everything about my life, and you are the _only_ one I ever want to be with." His thumb traces my cheek as he voice gets softer. "I love you, and I will be your faithful and loving husband forever."

My heart jumps at the last word, knowing that he deliberately picked it instead of "until death do us part." The reason is clear in his eyes – the look that says it isn't _nearly_ good enough to just love me for the rest of his life. He needs forever. And I couldn't agree more.

I don't even see him retrieve the ring from the pillow, but my gaze is drawn to it as I feel him slip it onto my finger. For a moment, I just stare at it, thinking about the convoluted path our lives took to bring us here today, and the role this particular ring played along the way.

But it doesn't distract me for long. My focus quickly returns to Tobias, and I watch only him as I speak, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

"I, Beatrice, take you, Tobias, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, forsaking all others, through everything that may come. For richer or poorer, through fear and joy, through war and torture and peace and games. Through sickness and injury and recovery and health. Wherever we may live, and whatever we may do."

I pause, suddenly unable to remember the rest of what I'd planned to say. I just know that it wasn't enough to convey all the feelings packed into my chest right now. Tobias has shown me his love so many times, through his broadcasts and his behavior and through gesture after gesture in the entire time I have known him. He needs to know how much he means to me.

"Tobias, you are the man of my dreams," I start, my voice cracking, but then I shake my head. "No, you're far beyond that. I _never_ thought that I would meet someone like you, let alone marry you. I have learned so much from you. You helped me and protected me even when we barely knew each other, and you taught me what it means to be strong, and brave, and selfless, and smart. You taught me the importance of honesty and kindness, too."

I stare into his dark blue eyes as I continue. "You are the best person I know. You have always been there for me, and I have no doubt whatsoever that you always will be. But to have the honor of sharing my life with you…." I shake my head again, at a loss for words. "There is _nothing_ better than that. I love you so much, and I am so happy that I get to be your loving and faithful wife forever."

Tobias' mouth opens a little as he stares at me intently, his breathing hard. And then he's pulling me against him, his lips crushing mine as our arms wrap around each other. There is nothing except this. I am his, and he is mine, and we are one as our very souls join in the most passionate kiss we have ever shared.

It's impossible to say how much time passes before we finally remember that the wedding isn't over yet, and that we have an audience watching us. We pull apart a few inches, resting our foreheads together as we breathe in each other's scent.

Dimly, I become aware that everyone watching us is cheering – clapping and hooting and laughing at our impromptu show of affection. But I don't move until I feel the nudge at my arm.

"Tris!" My gaze moves automatically toward the sound, and I finally notice Uriah attempting to hand me something. A metal band. And I realize that I forgot about Tobias' ring.

Smiling, I take it carefully, holding Tobias' gaze as I slide it onto his finger. We're both grinning widely when we finally turn back to Anna.

She's smiling just as broadly, shaking her head a little as she watches us. "We're certainly not in Abnegation anymore, are we?" she says with a chuckle. I'm blushing too much to answer her.

"Well," she continues, "Tobias and Tris, it is my privilege to pronounce you husband and wife." There's an unmistakable twinkle in her eyes as she adds, "You may now kiss the bride. Again."

* * *

It's late in the evening by the time all the festivities are done and the cleaning crew that Evelyn brought in has finished getting everything back to normal.

Our guests from outside the faction trickle out one by one, thanking us for inviting them and wishing us the best before they head into the mild night air. Gradually, our faction-mates say goodnight as well.

Micky, Luella, and Lauren will be heading back to Pittsburgh early tomorrow, so we say our farewells to them, too.

And then we head downstairs, just Tobias and I, for our first night in our new apartment.

We're a few feet away when he sweeps me into his arms, grinning as he pushes the door open and carries me through it. I'd forgotten that there's an old tradition of carrying the bride over the threshold of her new home on her wedding night, but I certainly don't mind as I wrap my arms around my husband's neck and enjoy the ride.

He sets me down before closing the door and making a point of locking it. I laugh, knowing perfectly well what he means. _No one_ is allowed to interrupt us tonight.

"I can't believe we're finally married," he says softly, his eyes resting on mine with an expression of awe. "I feel like I've been waiting for this since the day we met."

My lips curve upward as I run a hand lightly up his arm, feeling the sparks that always accompany that touch. "I know what you mean. I've wanted to call you my husband for a very long time now."

A shiver runs through him, and he leans closer so his head is right by mine. "Say that again." His voice is husky.

"What? Husband?" His smile is all the answer I need, and I raise my chin, letting my lips brush his ear as I whisper, "You're my _husband_. _My_ husband. Mine."

"God, I love hearing that," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. He runs a hand down my back, causing tingling to shoot all down my spine.

"I love being yours," he adds, pulling back enough to look at me. For a few seconds, he just takes in the sight, letting his gaze roam up and down my body in a way I know he was hesitant to do when the others were around.

"You really do look incredible, Tris."

A mischievous smile forms on my face as I reach out, lightly tracing circles on his chest with my left hand. "Wait 'til you see what's under the dress."

His eyes widen, and his breath catches as he stares hard, as if he'll be able to see through the material by sheer force of will.

"So what I'm hearing," he finally says, clearing his throat, "is that it's time for me to undress my wife."

"That," I answer throatily, "is an excellent idea, Tobias."

* * *

_**A/N: When Uriah took his position next to Tobias, this was their exchange:**_

Tobias chuckles as he says, "It's a good thing Margaret wasn't the one who got sick."

Uriah just grins back. "Are you kidding? I would have made a _wonderful_ flower girl."

_**Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Also, there are some images on my tumblr page if you want to see what parts of the wedding looked like. Search for Windchimedwriter on the tumblr website to find it. :-)**_


	39. Chapter 39: Tobias - Wedding

_**A/N: I originally posted this chapter out of order but have now moved it to its correct location. **__**By the way, thank you all so much for the outpouring of reviews, favorites, and follows lately. I really appreciate the support! Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! Oh, and I changed the story summary. Please let me know what you think of it.**_

* * *

**Chapter 39: Tobias – Wedding**

"You look good," Zeke says as he gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Tris will be impressed."

And maybe he's right. I've never thought highly of my appearance, but as I look in the mirror now, I actually like what I see. Between the black tuxedo and white shirt, the gray bow tie and cummerbund, and my blue eyes, I seem to represent most of the factions. Add in the grin I don't even want to erase, and it's all perfectly Kaizen. It makes me feel even more like I belong with Tris.

"So, are you nervous?" Zeke asks as he adjusts my bow tie just a touch.

"No," I answer simply. And it's true. I have never been more certain of _anything_ than I am about marrying Tris.

My best friend shakes his head a little, giving me a lopsided grin. "See, I just don't get that. I mean, I love Shauna, but I was a basket case right before the ceremony."

"Yeah, I know," I remind him, not quite able to suppress my smirk. "I was there." Lifting a shoulder, I add, "Kevin would probably say it's from growing up in Dauntless versus Abnegation."

Zeke nods, but then a slight frown creases his face. "Where _is_ Kevin, anyway?"

"Presumably on the roof," I answer. "He's getting everything ready up there, right?"

But Zeke's expression tells me that isn't the case. "He wasn't there earlier," he says uncertainly, looking like he's not sure he should worry me. "But he's probably there now. I'll go check."

"We'll both go," I state firmly, suddenly concerned. Kevin is _always_ on time.

* * *

When we reach the roof, it's immediately obvious that something is wrong. Most of the bridal party is gathered into a group, discussing something heatedly. Among them, I see a tired-looking Kevin, still dressed in his Erudite blue instead of his groomsman's suit.

"What's going on?" My voice slips into its instructor tone automatically, and Uriah jumps slightly in response.

"Michael is sick," Kevin says apologetically. "He spiked a fever and was up half the night vomiting."

Beside me, Zeke swears, and I see his frustration mirrored in the others' faces. But I immediately go into problem-solving mode. This is absolutely _not_ going to derail my wedding.

"Do you need to get back to him?" I ask Kevin, trying to assess how many members of the wedding party we're losing.

"No, my sister-in-law is watching him." As he speaks, he glances to the side, and I realize that his wife, Miriam, is setting up her musical keyboard. I breathe a small sigh of relief. I feel bad for Michael, but I can't help but be glad that my friend and sponsor will be here today, and that we'll still have music for the ceremony.

I give Kevin's shoulder a grateful pat. "Okay, go get dressed. We'll figure out the rest."

He's barely out of earshot before Shauna begins. "My brother's coming. We could have him fill in for Michael."

Zeke's laugh is probably the most elegant of the answers she receives. Hector served as their ring-bearer, but he was overaged for that even before his recent growth spurt. He's now almost as tall as I am and is sporting a full set of facial hair.

"Well, do you have any better ideas?" Shauna demands, glaring at her husband.

"I don't know," he mutters, looking at the rows of empty chairs. "Is anyone else with a kid coming?"

"No," I answer, knowing the guest list well at this point. My sister is the only other child expected, and she's already the flower girl.

"Margaret might have a friend she could ask," I begin hesitantly, but then I shake my head as I immediately think better of the idea. "No, there wouldn't be time, and even if we found someone, we wouldn't be able to show him what to do."

"Christina is going to flip out," Shauna groans.

"No, she's not," Uriah says firmly. "I'll take care of this."

"How?" Zeke asks suspiciously, but Uriah just turns to Cara.

"Let Christina know, but tell her it's okay. I've got this." Glancing around at the group, he adds, "Trust me."

For a long moment, it's obvious that no one does, at least not fully. But finally Cara sighs and leaves, shaking her head. And the others disperse to finish setting everything up. The guests will be arriving soon, after all.

I, however, level my gaze at Uriah. "You're going to be the ring-bearer, aren't you?" I ask him.

His smile gives him up. "Well, at least I know the timing. I watched enough of the rehearsals for that. And I don't have a beard, unlike some choices…."

I can't help it. I laugh. Part of me has felt bad about not including Uriah in the wedding party, so maybe this is the opportunity to make up for that. He's been my friend for almost as long as Zeke, after all, and he did play some role in prompting me to retrieve Tris' ring. There's something appropriate about having him deliver it today.

"Do it justice," I tell him, and then I head toward the stairs to greet our guests as they begin arriving.

* * *

My heartbeat increases when Cara sets up the screen that will hide Tris until the right time. Somehow, the sight of that barrier makes everything real – I can already imagine my soon-to-be-wife standing there, watching me before I get a chance to see her.

My mother smiles at me, rubbing a hand up and down my arm soothingly, as if she thinks I'm nervous. But that's not the right word. Excited would be more accurate. Or maybe thrilled. I can barely wait the last few minutes before we're scheduled to start.

By the time Shauna and Christina join us, letting us know that Tris is in position, Miriam is playing general background music, and the audience is talking quietly. It's finally time.

Kevin signals his wife, and the music changes. In front of me, Anna steps forward, walking down the aisle first. She's almost as short as Tris, but today she looks tall, carrying herself with a tremendous sense of presence. The white and black of her dress flash like sunlight and shadows among the red and yellow flowers that surround the seating area. It's a dramatic effect.

Amar and Cara are next, walking arm-in-arm, their dark blue and gray outfits complementing each other. I have to give Christina credit for coordinating the colors well while reflecting multiple factions. But despite that, my eyes keep straying to the screen that's hiding Tris. I don't really care how everyone and everything else look – I want to see my bride.

Zeke and Shauna head down the aisle at this point, Shauna rolling smoothly with Zeke's hand on her arm. And for a moment, I think about their wedding, when Tris and I filled their roles, and they filled ours. It feels like that was ages ago.

Kevin and Christina begin their walk, and I watch more attentively now, knowing that it's my turn after them. I find myself bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet in anticipation. It makes Evelyn chuckle lightly beside me, and I glance at her, marveling at how comfortable we are in each other's presence these days. There were so many years when I couldn't possibly have imagined having her at my side at a time like this – or at all.

Kevin and Christina reach the front, and I know it's time. For a split second, I exchange a smile with my mother as we link our arms, and then I step forward, feeling happier and more confident than I can ever remember being in my entire life. _This is really happening._

Mom and I walk down the aisle together, glancing at the friends who fill the seats on both sides. I didn't quite realize how many people we knew until we started drawing up the guest list, but I'm glad to see their familiar faces as I escort Evelyn to her seat in the front row.

We exchange another smile, and she kisses me on the cheek. "I'm so happy for you, Tobias," she whispers before sitting down. The words bolster me even more as I take my place at the front, next to Zeke and Kevin.

My eyes turn to the back again, and I can't keep them off the screen that shields Tris. There's a crack between the panels, and she's undoubtedly watching us through that. I gaze at it, letting her know that I'm eager to see her, and to begin. This is our day, and I _really_ don't want to wait any longer.

But I reluctantly have to. So, I instead turn my attention to my sister as she begins walking down the aisle, scattering red and yellow petals from her basket as she goes. Margaret was thrilled to be part of our wedding, and she shows it in the wide smile that splits her face. It draws an answering grin from me, as if I wasn't already wearing one.

When she reaches the front row, she tosses a final handful of petals and then gracefully takes her seat, and I watch as Uriah begins moving forward in Michael's role. It's difficult not to shake my head when I see what he's doing. I should have expected this….

He's crouched down in an obvious attempt to appear shorter, and he's moving in strange goose steps in order to maintain that height. It's more than a little funny, and laughter follows him as each section of the audience sees him. But he holds the pillow high, showing off the rings and somehow keeping a straight face as if this is a normal kind of ring-bearer for a wedding to have.

At first, I think the rest of the wedding party is in shock, because they're completely silent, but then Zeke starts laughing, and it spreads from there. My own shoulders shake in amusement, and I can hear Shauna starting to crack up.

I take a quick glance at Christina to see if she's offended. It's not her wedding, but she's taken on a lot of the burden of planning it for us, and I'd hate for her to feel like it's ruined because of her boyfriend. For a few seconds, I think she feels exactly that way, as she stares at Uriah, utterly flabbergasted.

I'm relieved when a slow smile works its way onto her face. She shakes her head, but in clear amusement now, as Uriah sidles up next to me, crouching on his knees and holding the pillow up in the same position that Michael practiced. I guess he really did pay attention to the rehearsals, even though he wasn't in them.

The entire audience bursts into cheers, and I chuckle with them. Leaning down so Uriah can hear me, I comment, "It's a good thing Margaret wasn't the one who got sick."

Uriah just grins back. "Are you kidding? I would have made a _wonderful_ flower girl."

The response draws a deeper laugh from me, but then the music changes, and my full attention returns to the back of the aisle. It's time for Tris now.

Vaguely, I'm aware that the audience has quieted, and that everyone is watching as Caleb steps toward the screened area, extending his arm in invitation. But all I can focus on is Tris as she finally emerges, stepping toward her brother and linking her arm with his.

My heart stops completely when they turn toward the front. I have never seen a more beautiful sight than my bride as she walks slowly toward me.

She is absolutely radiant, her face glowing with joy and perfectly framed by the short veil that flows behind her head and shoulders. She or Christina or someone had the sense to style her hair into a bun, reminding me of the first time I saw her – and of all the inner beauty that I loved about Abnegation. The look is seamlessly offset by earrings that dangle just right, making me want to touch them – and her – even from here.

And I can't begin to process how amazing the rest of her looks. A white dress flows down from her exposed shoulders, its bead overlay turning gradually darker as it drifts closer to the floor. The beads shimmer, too, reflecting blue and black and white and gray in a graceful mix of factions as she moves.

And she's _mine_. Over the last few weeks, I wondered occasionally if I'd see flashes from my fear landscape – from the obstacle where I had to watch her marry Uriah – when I saw her walking down the aisle. But there is nothing except joy in me today as I watch her coming closer, on her way to marry _me_.

She seems to feel the same way, given how her gaze stays locked with mine and how she grins as if she can't even imagine stopping. I certainly know the feeling.

She doesn't look away until Caleb pulls her to a halt. For a long moment, they face each other, and then he gives her a gentle kiss on the cheek before turning his attention to me.

Nodding at me to formally bless our union, he takes Tris' hand and places it lightly in mine. My fingers immediately lace with hers, and I stare at her again as she takes the last step to my side.

"You look incredible, Tris," I murmur, unable to take my eyes off her. How did I ever get so lucky?

"You do, too," she answers, her voice low. It makes everything inside me tingle with electricity. I lean toward her instinctively, but she beats me to it, standing on tiptoe and touching her lips to mine. My response is immediate, as I pull her to me, kissing her with all the love that refuses to stay bound inside me any longer. It's a spectacular kiss.

We're interrupted by loud cheering from the audience, and I manage to remember that we still have a ceremony to complete. We both flush a little as we pull apart and turn to face Anna.

"Shall we begin?" she asks, her amusement obvious.

"Yes," I state unambiguously. "I can't wait to marry this woman."

Anna chuckles. "Clearly." She's still smiling as she begins her speech.

"We are gathered here today to join this couple, Beatrice Prior and Tobias Eaton, in holy matrimony."

My eyes move to Tris again at the mention of her name, and it's difficult to force myself to look back at Anna as she continues.

"Marriage has a long, rich history, one that has been around as long as we know and one that I'm sure crosses more cultures than we've ever learned about. But what I believe they all share in common is hope. The hope that two people can join their lives and be better together than apart. The hope that they will be happier and more fulfilled as a pair than as individuals."

It's impossible not to search Tris out again at those words. Her gaze meets mine, her eyes shining blue and gray, and I give up on looking away. Instead, I let myself get lost in the love of my life as Anna's speech flows over both of us.

"One of the dubious benefits of aging is that I've witnessed many couples over the years. Ones where that hope blossomed, and they lived well together for their entire lives. And ones where that failed to happen."

"Perhaps that should change my view of marriage. But the reality is that it hasn't, because that hope is too important to lose. It is the core of our lives, and our societies, and we can never abandon it."

"And personally, I have seen that when a couple flourishes, they are far better together than separately. I saw that in my own marriage, to a man I loved every day we were together – and still do. That is a bond worth striving for, and it is the bond that I see between Tobias and Tris."

"They share an unbreakable connection, one that defines who they are and that makes them both stronger. Their love is the epitome of what we all hope to find in our lives."

I smile, knowing that what Anna said is absolutely true. Tris is the center of who I am, and I don't even want to imagine my life without her.

"And so it is my deep honor to join this couple together legally, as they are already bound spiritually."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I can see Anna looking at me as she adds, "Tobias, you may now state your vows."

Turning fully toward Tris, I take her left hand in mine and meet her intense gaze. It's difficult to remember the concept of language, but I begin anyway.

"I, Tobias, take you, Beatrice, to be my lawfully wedded wife." A grin forms from deep within me at the word _wife._ "To have and to hold, forsaking all others, through good times and bad. For richer or poorer." A mischievous impulse goes through me, and I pull on our experiences to continue instead of using the standard vows. "Through war and danger and imprisonment. Through insanely risky missions. And through peace and calmness too. Through sickness and in health. With or without a faction. With or without anything, really."

My free hand caresses her face on its own. I never have been able to keep myself from touching her. "You're it for me, Tris. You have changed everything about my life, and you are the _only_ one I ever want to be with." My voice drops to almost a whisper, intended only for her. "I love you, and I will be your faithful and loving husband forever."

Her eyes brighten with a mixture of tears and that fierce energy of hers that I am utterly unable to resist, and I find myself reaching blindly for her ring without wanting to pull my gaze away from hers. Uriah presses it into my searching fingers, and I thank him silently as I slide it onto Tris' hand. I can't describe the joy I feel in that moment.

Her gaze drops to the ring for a second before returning to me, and then she begins her vows without waiting for Anna to prompt her.

"I, Beatrice, take you, Tobias, to be my lawfully wedded husband." Another surge of emotion goes through me at that word. I have always been hers, but I love that it will be official now.

"To have and to hold, forsaking all others, through everything that may come. For richer or poorer, through fear and joy, through war and torture and peace and games. Through sickness and injury and recovery and health. Wherever we may live, and whatever we may do."

A grin tugs at me. We certainly have been through some unusual experiences, to have vows like that. But I know I'd go through it all a thousand times if that was the only way to end up here today. Tris is more than worth it.

"Tobias, you are the man of my dreams," she continues, and my heart pounds harder, hesitating only slightly when she shakes her head. "No, you're far beyond that. I _never_ thought that I would meet someone like you, let alone marry you. I have learned so much from you. You helped me and protected me even when we barely knew each other, and you taught me what it means to be strong, and brave, and selfless, and smart. You taught me the importance of honesty and kindness, too."

Our eyes are locked, and her energy is filling me as I absorb her words hungrily. "You are the best person I know. You have always been there for me, and I have no doubt whatsoever that you always will be. But to have the honor of sharing my life with you…." She shakes her head again. "There is _nothing_ better than that. I love you so much, and I am so happy that I get to be your loving and faithful wife forever."

She finishes, and for a moment, I just stare, finding it difficult to breathe. I spent so much of my life being unloved and unwanted, and it took me a very long time to believe that was no longer the case. It took Tris to convince me.

Now, though, with her saying those words as her _wedding vows_, it finally sinks in that I will never have to live that way again. I get to spend the rest of my life being _loved_. By the woman _I_ love. The thought is indescribable.

The rest of the world disappears, and I pull her to me, kissing her with all the intensity that's racing through both of us. And I swear that every single atom of my existence responds, connecting to her in a way I didn't even know was possible. It's the single best moment of my life.

But what makes it even better is that I can add the words _so far_ to that sentence. It's only the best moment _so far_.

When we finally pull apart, I lower my forehead to hers, breathing her scent as I gradually become aware of the noise from the audience. They're cheering loudly, whooping and screaming and clapping in reaction to our very public display of affection.

My Abnegation instincts tell me I should be embarrassed, but it's still not enough to make me move away from Tris. Neither of us budges until Uriah's voice hisses from right next to us.

"Tris!" We both look at him, and the corners of my mouth tug upwards as I realize that he's trying to hand Tris my ring. I had forgotten about it.

Perhaps she had, too, because she flushes slightly as she takes it, before sliding it onto my ring finger. It's impossible not to grin as we turn back to Anna to finish the ceremony.

She's smiling, too, shaking her head and chuckling. "We're certainly not in Abnegation anymore, are we?" The audience laughs.

"Well," she continues, meeting each of our gazes in turn, "Tobias and Tris, it is my privilege to pronounce you husband and wife." The words send a fresh spark of pure, unadulterated joy through me.

"You may now kiss the bride." She pauses, fighting to keep a straight face, before she adds, "Again."

I'm more than happy to accept that invitation.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry, but I can't include Tobias' POV of the wedding night here, as it's utterly unsuitable for a T rating. But please let me know what you thought of this chapter, anyway. Also, I'm considering starting a short M-rated fic for certain scenes that I can't include here. If you'd like to see that, please let me know which scenes you'd be most interested in reading. Thanks!**_


	40. Chapter 40: Christina - Memorial

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to everyone who has favorited and/or followed this story! Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie. This is a very short chapter to fill you in a bit on Christina and Uriah and on activities in the city.**_

**Chapter 40: Christina – Memorial**

The memorial consists of a gray stone wall, shaped like a broken circle, sitting in the middle of a park. It feels like an appropriate symbol for the war that ripped through the heart of our city, tearing our factions and lives apart.

Names are carved on both sides of it, for all those who died in the war – the Abnegation, Candor, and loyal Dauntless on the outside, and the others on the inside. Only the Dauntless and Erudite leaders, and those who were executed for war crimes, are excluded.

It shows the two sides of the Chicago Civil War.

The city council asked Four and Tris to speak today, at the memorial's opening ceremony. They were the logical choices, given the active roles they served throughout the war, but I don't blame them for declining.

Tris lost too much in that struggle to be willing to discuss it in front of a crowd, and Four has the same demons that the rest of us do – those of us who were under the simulation, anyway. We have to live with the memory of what our bodies did without our permission.

I suppose I was relatively lucky in that regard, not that I'd ever use that word for anything related to that horrible day. The program made me herd a group of scared kids into a building, shutting them into a room and guarding them at gunpoint. Sometimes, their terrified faces still haunt my nightmares, but at least I didn't kill anyone.

On the flip side, that's probably why it was so hard for me to believe that Tris really had to shoot Will. I dearly wanted to believe that the simulation couldn't have made me kill an innocent person, and that I would have woken up if it had ordered me to do that. And that in turn made me assume that Will couldn't have done it, either – that he couldn't have posed a serious threat to Tris.

It wasn't until I watched Marlene step off the roof that I knew I was wrong.

My gaze turns to Uriah, watching where he stands next to her name. He runs his fingers lightly over it as tears course down his face. He loves me, and I know it, but he still mourns her the same way I mourn Will. It's impossible not to wonder, sometimes, what our lives would be like if they had lived.

Cara is by her brother's name now, and I wait, giving her time to grieve before I take my turn at that spot. Tris will undoubtedly want the same chance before we leave, though she's currently by her parents' names. I watch as Four rocks her gently back and forth, her face buried against his chest as his chin rests on her head. His eyes are closed, but there's no hiding the guilt that still torments him. I don't know if he's remembering the way he fought her in the Dauntless control room, or is feeling our collective failure to save the Abnegation, but he's obviously not over that day any more than the rest of us are.

Uriah slowly walks toward me, having apparently finished his silent communication with Marlene for now. He gives me a sad half-smile before wrapping his arms around me and leaning into my warmth. I return the embrace tightly.

"You never told me what you did during the simulation," I say quietly against his shoulder. It's not an easy topic, but I grew up believing that it's important to reveal our secrets, and this feels like the time to discuss his. Besides, I have to admit I'm a bit curious. He's Divergent, so he must have been awake, and I don't know if that made everything harder or easier.

He doesn't answer at first – for long enough that I begin to wonder if I've pushed his boundaries too far. But he finally responds, his voice strained.

"I watched." A shiver runs through him. "I'd like to say I resisted, the way Four and Tris did, but it was all so overwhelming. I felt like I was the only one awake, surrounded by thousands of people who would kill me if they realized it. And I guess I wasn't smart enough to come up with a plan." He gives a self-deprecating shrug. "So, I just pretended to be under the simulation, and I…watched."

We pull apart far enough for me to see his face, and my heart hurts at the pain and guilt I see there. "It was horrible," he whispers, looking away from me and shaking his head sadly. His gaze passes over the others before pausing on his brother, who has his arms pressed against the wall, his face buried in them.

"I saw Zeke shoot a woman." His voice catches, and he closes his eyes. "She was maybe forty. All in gray. I don't think she was a leader or anything, but she tried to shield an old man, and I guess that was enough for the simulation to decide she was an enemy."

Fresh tears make their way down his cheeks, and I wrap my arms around him again, holding him tightly against the memory.

"You couldn't have stopped it," I reassure him. "None of us could."

"Yeah, I know." But his voice is tight, and it's obvious he doesn't really believe me. "It's just…. I was awake. It seems like I should have at least tried."

I shake my head, letting him feel the motion as words fail me. That's a rare thing for someone from Candor.

"We never even figured out who she was," he adds after a moment. And I think about how hard that would be, on top of everything else. To not even be able to find her name on the wall and apologize to her. To say a prayer for her forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Uri," I whisper.

He nods a little, rubbing a hand up and down my back. An odd, strangled laugh comes out of him as he says, "The funny thing is that I was mad at you afterwards."

That makes me pull back – enough to see his expression, and to see that he's serious. "What? Why?"

"Because of how you treated Tris." He sounds somewhat apologetic, but he continues anyway. "She stopped the simulation, and every time I looked at her, I thought about how many lives she saved. And every time I heard you muttering behind her back, I thought of that woman dying on the street, and it pissed me off."

The words make every muscle in my body lock in place, and I just stare at my boyfriend, appalled. _He's right._ How did I never see that before? I focused entirely on Will's death, and on finally forgiving Tris for that, but I never once thought to _thank_ her for what she did. For all I know, I would have killed someone myself if she hadn't stopped the simulation first.

"Oh, my God…" I whisper, my hands rising to my mouth on their own as my breathing turns quick and shallow. What kind of terrible friend am I?

"Hey," he says softly, reaching to take my hands again, pulling them away from my face and squeezing them. "I didn't mean it like that. None of us were exactly at our best, then." He tries to smile, without success. "I stopped being mad at you a long time ago, and I'm sure Tris did, too, if she was ever even mad at all. I just…. I wanted you to understand why it took me so long to notice you…_that_ way. To fall in love with you."

His lips finally manage to lift as he adds more playfully, "But now, you're my favorite person, you know."

The words draw a reluctant smile from me, despite all the grim memories and realizations this day has brought. But I suppose that's the point of a memorial – to remember and forgive and learn – even when it's not easy.

"You're my favorite, too," I murmur, giving him a light kiss before turning my attention back to our faction-mates and to the names on the wall. Uriah may be the most important person in my life right now, but the others matter, too – those who are here in person and those who are only left in spirit. They're all part of who I am, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

* * *

_**A/N: I know this was very short, but please take a moment to review anyway. Also, I'm thinking about changing the story summary, so if you have any ideas for that, please let me know. Basically, I'm thinking that people aren't quite realizing that this story is primarily about Tris and Tobias, so I want to change the emphasis to be on them a little more.**_

_**This story has been receiving a good number of reviews, thanks to all of you wonderful, loyal readers, but it has a lot fewer views, favorites, and followers than my other stories do, and that makes me suspect that the description isn't attracting new readers. (Or maybe they're not getting past the angst in the first set of chapters...) Anyway, I'd appreciate any suggestions. Thanks again!**_


	41. Chapter 41: Tris - Babysitting

_**A/N: Just a reminder that I posted the last chapter out of order. I just moved it to the right place, but if you haven't read Tobias' POV of the wedding yet, or Christina's POV of the memorial, please go back to the last two chapters to find them.**_

_**As always, thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to review, favorite, and follow this story! I appreciate your support very much. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

**Chapter 41: Tris – Babysitting**

It's not like Zeke and Shauna don't have plenty of babysitters when they want to go out by themselves. Between everyone in our faction, plus their families in Dauntless, it's almost a contest for who gets to watch Lionel each time.

So, I guess it's not surprising that Tobias and I don't end up filling the role until Lionel is ten months old. What's stranger, really, is that neither of us has watched a child this young before, given that everyone in Abnegation pitches in to help others whenever needed. But maybe that's why – others were so quick to volunteer that it never came down to us.

"He usually falls asleep after his eight o'clock feeding," Shauna tells us as she loosens his fingers from the necklace that he caught hold of. He makes a squawk of protest when she pulls it away and tucks it under her shirt. "So, you'll probably have a quiet evening after that. Just make sure you change his diaper first, around seven-thirty, or he'll wake up wet, and then he's hard to get back to sleep."

She wheels into the nursery, and I smile at the way Lionel extends his arms as if he's flying, clearly enjoying the movement from his seat in her lap. We follow them, somewhat mesmerized by the sheer volume of toys that fill the room. They're packed into bookshelves and are overflowing from the large chest. I can't imagine how a ten-month-old could possibly use so many items, but that may just be my perspective. We had very few toys in Abnegation.

Waving at the changing table, Shauna adds, "We use a disposable diaper at night, since it holds more, and cloth diapers the rest of the time."

We nod, a little wide-eyed, before I hesitantly admit that I've never changed a diaper before. Tobias seems relieved that I spoke up.

Zeke laughs. "It's easy. C'mere, and I'll show you."

He proceeds to demonstrate, swooping Lionel up from his mother's lap, laying him on the changing table, and giving him a toy to keep him occupied. I notice that it's attached to the table by a short tether, and it's easy to tell why once Lionel begins trying to throw it away from him.

"He'll roll off the table if you give him a chance, so keep a hand on him at all times," Zeke tells us, placing his palm firmly on his son's chest. He uses his other hand to wipe Lionel down before grabbing a cloth diaper from a large stack, folding it, and putting it into a water-proof cover. By the time he snaps it in place, I'm feeling more than a little daunted. I can only hope that Tobias and I can handle this task together.

"He'll fuss if the diaper is wet enough to bother him," Zeke continues, "so you don't need to constantly check it or anything. And if it needs to be changed for more _solid_ reasons…." He smirks. "Well, you'll smell that pretty quickly."

"Yeah, I bet," Tobias responds snidely, "given who his father is." He mutters to me, "That was Zeke's secret weapon during fights." My mouth drops open a little at the implication, but Zeke just grins proudly.

"Hey, first rule of Dauntless – make use of your available resources."

Shauna rolls her eyes, and I do, too. What is it with men and bathroom humor?

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she says, turning away from her husband and focusing on me. "We'll be back around eleven. Uriah and Christina will be out, too, but George is always good with Lionel if you need a hand for any reason."

I nod again, half-tempted to relegate the evening's duties to George, but I'm pretty sure he and Amar have some type of plans, and besides, we agreed to do this. I won't interrupt them if I can avoid it.

So, instead I accept Lionel when Zeke drops him in my arms, and I follow them to the door while the infant squirms wildly against me.

"Bye-bye, sweetie," Shauna says, leaning forward to give him a kiss. His movements increase as he struggles to climb into her lap again. "Mommy and Daddy will be back soon."

"See ya in a bit, bud," Zeke adds, catching his son's gaze and waving his hand up and down. Lionel apparently knows this routine, because I feel him stiffen in my arms, and I see his eyes grow wide.

They're barely out the door before he starts bawling.

"Shh, it's okay," I say as soothingly as I can while trying to be heard over his wailing. "They're only going away for a little while." If he understands, he certainly doesn't indicate it. Instead, his volume increases to full-out screams.

He begins thrashing, too – hard enough that it's difficult to keep my grip, and I look at Tobias for help.

"Try setting him on the floor," he suggests. But whatever Lionel wants, it clearly isn't that. The moment he touches the surface, he twists around, grabbing at me as he cries in strange gasping, babbling sounds.

For lack of another choice, I pick him up again, trying to hold him on my hip the way I've seen Christina do. But instead of wrapping his legs around me as he does with her, he uses them to push off, launching himself backwards so hard and fast I almost drop him. I inhale sharply as the motion of catching him strains my wrist.

Tobias frowns when he sees me wince, and he reaches out, taking Lionel in firm hands.

"No hurting my wife," he scolds the child.

Lionel stops crying abruptly, twisting so he can look up at Tobias' face. He seems to be confused by the change in who's holding him and by the deep voice rumbling through Tobias' chest.

"Yeah, you heard me," Tobias adds, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. "Stop all that squirming."

There's a moment of complete silence as the two stare at each other, and then Lionel gives a happy, giggling screech as he launches himself backwards again. He's clearly used to playing when a man holds him like that.

"Damn!" Tobias hisses as he stretches his own wrist to keep the baby from hitting the floor.

Lionel stares again before repeating, "Dam." Tobias' gaze shoots to mine, and both of our mouths drop open. Lionel giggles. "Dam dam dam dam dam."

"No," Tobias says, looking a bit panicked. "No, no, no." I feel the same surge of anxiety going through me. Our first time babysitting, and we've taught a ten-month-old to swear….

"Don't say that, Lionel," Tobias adds. But that only seems to encourage the repetitions.

My husband looks at me, his expression a bit desperate. "That's not his first word, is it?"

"I don't think so…." _I certainly hope not, anyway._ "I'm pretty sure he knows how to say Da-Da already."

Lionel gives a happy screech, now shouting "Dam" at the top of his lungs.

"Hey," I continue weakly, stepping close enough for Tobias to hear me, "maybe they'll think that's what he's saying now."

Tobias just groans as he shakes his head, but there's a small smile on his face. I can picture him trying to convince Zeke of that tomorrow.

For now, though, he apparently decides to change tactics.

"All righty, kiddo," he says as he swings Lionel through the air the way Zeke always does. "Let's play a nice, distracting game."

* * *

Lionel never stops moving the entire afternoon and evening, though he does eventually drop the unfortunate word we taught him, changing instead to other sounds.

We use more of the toys in his room than I would have expected, trying one after another in an attempt to keep him occupied – and squealing in joy rather than crying. Quiet is a concept that he clearly hasn't learned yet.

We're both nervous the first time we change his diaper, but we work together, needing four hands and five minutes to do what Zeke managed in thirty seconds with two. Clearly, practice makes a big difference with this task.

Nevertheless, we're proud when Tobias holds Lionel up afterwards, and we survey our results. Everything looks good.

Until we set the baby on the floor….

He immediately crawls right out of the diaper, giggling wildly as he takes off at top speed, his bare bottom waggling in the air while we chase after him. Obviously, we didn't fasten the diaper tightly enough.

By the time we're able to catch the little speed demon, he's left a trail of pee some three feet long.

We tighten the next diaper considerably better before cleaning up the mess. Lionel seems to find the cleaning process fascinating, and he happily sits beside us, pushing a cloth into the carpet in an adorable attempt to help. For the first time today, I begin to think that maybe this baby business isn't so bad.

Tobias may be thinking otherwise, though, because he comments wryly, "I'm starting to see why they went with brown carpet."

The reason for their flooring choices becomes even clearer when we attempt to feed Lionel dinner. The high chair is next to the dining room table, on the tiled part of the room, but he still manages to launch food all the way onto the carpet from there. I never imagined that mashed peas could fly so far.

"I'm pretty sure he's defying the laws of physics," I say thoughtfully as I watch the airborne mush cross half the room.

"Which ones, exactly?" Tobias counters as he eyes the sheer amount of food covering Lionel. "I don't think there was anywhere near this much in the jar."

We end up giving Lionel a bath to get him clean again, and Tobias spends the next half-hour cleaning up the water from every surface in the bathroom while I entertain the tiny whirlwind in the living room.

By the time seven-thirty rolls around, we're both thoroughly exhausted. We sit on the floor, on either side of the rolling, wiggling, crawling child as we stare at him with glazed-over eyes.

"How can he _possibly_ have that much energy?" Tobias asks.

"Shauna swears that he's solar-powered." The corner of my mouth lifts. "She says he barely eats anything, but he goes like that all day long."

Tobias eyes me levelly. "So…if we turn out the lights, will he _stop_?"

The question draws a laugh out of me. "Hey, I'm all for trying it. But first, I think we'd better change his diaper again and give him his bottle."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Tobias mutters. "I don't suppose you're able to move, are you?"

Another grin pulls at my face as I force myself to my feet. "All that time punching bags, and you can't keep up with someone who can't even walk yet?"

"Nope." His tone reminds me strongly of Uriah's. "I admit defeat at the hands of the mighty Lionel."

* * *

By the time we finally get the baby to sleep, I'm ready to agree with Tobias' statement. We're too worn out to clean up the remaining mess from dinner, so instead we collapse on the couch, listening to our own growling stomachs and debating if we have the energy to do anything about them.

I'm just about ready to get a bowl of cereal when a sharp cry splits the quiet apartment. Tobias groans as we both drag ourselves to our feet and head to the nursery.

Lionel is standing in his crib, holding himself upright with the rails as a very strong odor fills the air.

The obvious swear word comes out of Tobias' mouth before he can think better of it, but fortunately Lionel doesn't seem to notice this time. He's too busy screaming.

And just to prove that not all diaper changes are as easy as the previous times, this one is anything but.

"I think we should have waited longer before changing him," Tobias says in frustration as the third round of poop comes out all over the diaper we're attempting to fasten. It leaks around the edges, smearing on Lionel's pajamas and our hands and the changing table as the baby kicks his legs and twists his entire body in an apparent escape attempt. The smell is atrocious.

"No kidding," I snarl in response, grabbing cloth diapers and using them to wipe up what I can reach as the waste continues to pour out. "Just how much can he hold in there?"

"He's _definitely_ Zeke's kid" is Tobias' reply.

"Try lifting him up," I suggest, realizing that we're smearing the mess more with Lionel lying on his back.

And Tobias does, holding the baby at shoulder-level while I wipe his thrashing legs. Unfortunately, it proves to be a terrible angle when he pees again. There's no time to move as the liquid arcs through the air, hitting Tobias directly in the face.

My husband makes a disgusted gagging sound as he turns his head and simultaneously rotates Lionel, trying to redirect the stream. I grab the nearest diaper, shoving it into the flow…just as it stops.

For a moment, I stare at Tobias' dripping wet face, biting my lip. And then I start laughing. I try not to – I really do – but I don't think I've ever seen Tobias look quite so shell-shocked.

He watches me, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he seems to fight to keep it straight. And then he leans forward, deliberately rubbing his wet face all along mine as he gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"Eeewww," I squeal, backing away quickly and grabbing at the nearest cloth to find something to wipe myself with. But it's far from clean, and when I hold it up, I'm suddenly seized by a different impulse…the desire to use it as a weapon.

Tobias must sense my intent, because as soon as I lift it into launching position, he rotates so he's holding Lionel up between us.

"Hey, no using the kid as a shield!" I protest, eyeing Lionel's back end suspiciously to see if it's in imminent danger of erupting again.

"First rule of Dauntless…" Tobias quotes, grinning. And suddenly we're both laughing – hard – as Lionel giggles with us.

We spend the next half-hour in the bathroom – washing our hands and faces and holding Lionel's lower body under the faucet until he's clean enough for a bath. By the time we're done, he's so thoroughly awake I doubt he'll sleep again before adulthood. It'll probably take just as long to get his room back to normal.

Tobias tackles that effort while I walk Lionel around the living room, soothing him with songs I don't even remember learning as he becomes increasingly fussy. My eyes drift over the remaining mess from dinner with each pass, and I can't help thinking about how wet the bathroom is now. We're certainly not going to leave the place in good shape for Zeke and Shauna.

Actually, between all that and the nursery, it might be better to just call the whole apartment a loss. It would undoubtedly be easier to renovate a new one.

Eventually, Tobias hauls the changing table into the kitchen, obviously deciding that he needs better cleaning supplies – and closer at hand. But then he just stands next to it, watching me as I continue walking Lionel around in what is obviously a useless effort to get him back to sleep.

"I have an idea," he finally comments. "I'll be right back."

Homicidal thoughts pass through my head when he walks out of the apartment, leaving me alone with the whining, whimpering, and _still_ energetic baby.

They're replaced by confusion when he returns two minutes later, carrying our desk chair. He wheels it over to me, giving me a half-smile, and suddenly I get it. Lionel is used to having his mother soothe him to sleep in her wheelchair.

It takes a while to figure out a good rhythm, but at least I'm able to sit this way, and eventually I find the right combination of back and forth movement to get the baby to sleep again.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I'm able to get him into his crib without waking him up.

When I return to the disaster area that was formerly known as the living room, Tobias is slumped on the couch, his entire body sagging with exhaustion. He barely looks up as I approach him.

"So, you ready to try for one of our own?" I ask with as straight a face as I can manage as I collapse next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder and feeling like I'll be asleep within seconds.

He doesn't even hesitate in his response.

"God, no."

* * *

_**A/N: On behalf of all of us who have ever had any of you babysit an extremely energetic baby: Sorry... For what it's worth, we really do understand when we come home and find the house like that.**_

_**A couple of updates that are unrelated to this chapter:**_

_**1\. Most of you seem to like the idea of having me write some M-rated chapters and posting them separately. However, one reader made an excellent point that it's nice to be able to let her daughter read my stories without worrying that they're inappropriate for her age. So, I'm going to post all M-rated chapters under a separate account and will keep this one for T-rated stories. When I get ready to post something under the other account, I'll let you know the username. Also, just to clarify any misunderstandings, I'm still continuing this story and my "Becoming Determinant" one with their T ratings. I don't plan to stop them early or replace them with M-rated stories or anything like that.**_

_**2\. For those who are reading "Bitter Cold," MuggleSarah sent a PM recently. She's having an extremely busy time in real life, as sometimes happens, and she hasn't been able to carve out time to write. However, she has not abandoned the story, so please be patient with her. And as an author, I'd like to mention that when we're having a tough time like that, it really helps to get supportive messages and reminders of how much you love the story. We don't get paid for fanfiction, so we post for our readers' sake, and we have much more incentive to somehow find the time to do that if you sweetly remind us how much you care about the story instead of sending complaints or threats. Just an FYI...**_

_**Speaking of reviews, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I always appreciate the support! :-)**_


	42. Chapter 42: Tris - Letter

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie! Fair warning - she didn't like this chapter, and I know some of you won't, either. But please see it through to the end; it doesn't necessarily go where you expect, and I think it has some value even though it's emotionally very rough to get through. And just remember that everyone makes mistakes...**_

**Chapter 42: Tris – Letter**

I pace back and forth for the last hour before Tobias is due to arrive home. Panicked adrenaline is flowing through every part of me, and I can't figure out what to think or how to react. All I can do is picture the same image, over and over, as if it's burned into my brain.

Periodically, I stop to reread the letter, hoping to somehow find that it's not as bad as I thought. That I misread it the previous twenty times, or that there's some excuse for it. But every time, it just increases the sick feeling that's filling my insides like concrete.

I don't even know how old it is – how long _this_ has been going on. The letter was folded up tightly, and judging by the wear on the paper, Tobias carried it in his pocket for a few days before it fell out and ended up on the floor, under the corner of the desk. Where I innocently found it while cleaning today.

Part of me is tempted to go talk to Christina about it, but even the _thought_ of someone else knowing is embarrassing. Besides, it's not like she could tell me anything beyond what I've already seen with my own eyes, in black and white. That Tobias wrote a love letter to someone named Nita, filled with anguish over the fact that they're no longer together….

The more I pace, the more my mind dwells on who she is and what she's like. I picture her as tall and curvy – everything I always expected someone as handsome as Tobias to want. Someone who is everything I've never been. The image eats away at me, destroying all rational thought and leaving me mired in the horror of the two of them together.

Maybe I should just pack my stuff and move into one of the other apartments. I could leave the letter on our bed as explanation, letting him know that I found out. And that _we're_ over now.

But I can't do it. The masochist in me wants to hear him admit to it all. After everything we've been through together, I need that before I could ever start to move on. As if there's any way to truly do that.

I should have known when he told me again that he isn't ready for kids yet. When he started working longer hours, supposedly to finish a new faction. I should have suspected that something else was going on, but I was foolish enough to think that we loved each other too much for _this_ to happen.

My heart hammers when I hear the footsteps coming down the hallway, toward our door. It'll be him, of course, and I have no idea how to face him right now, or how to talk about this. But as the doorknob turns, I wipe my cheeks one last time, determined not to let him see my tears, and I wait.

"Hi," he says softly as he enters our apartment and sees me standing there. His voice is sweet and relaxed, like he's happy to see me. It's impossible that he could sound so normal when he's just destroyed my entire world.

He walks up to me as he always does, leaning down as if to kiss me, but there is absolutely no way I can handle that. I back away quickly, knowing that my anger and outrage and grief show in my expression as I glare at him.

"What's wrong?" he asks instantly, looking alarmed. "What happened?"

For a second, I have no voice, but then I spit the words out viciously. "Maybe you should ask _Nita_."

He looks at me blankly. I've never thought of Tobias as being a good actor, but judging by how well he portrays complete ignorance and confusion at the moment, I guess I was wrong. Apparently, I was wrong about a lot of things with him.

"Who's Nita?" he asks.

"**_Don't_**," I snarl. "Don't deny it." His eyebrows furrow, and he seems to be thinking hard. But I don't want to hear whatever excuse he's going to try to give, so I add, "I found the letter."

He manages not to look like he's been caught in the act. "What letter?"

"Were there _so many_ that you have to ask?" The anger is fierce.

"Tris," he begins uncertainly, stepping toward me and raising his hand in supplication. He freezes when I move sharply away from him.

He rocks back on his heels, upset obvious on his face, before he tries again. "Tris, please talk to me. _What_ is going on?"

I scoff, looking away as the emotions overwhelm me. There's no way I want to look at _him_ right now.

"You know damned well!"

"No," he states sternly, "I don't."

It's too much, and I'm heading for the door before I'm even aware that my feet have moved. He steps forward quickly, grabbing my arm to stop me. But I yank it away, turning to glare at him.

"Leave me the hell alone!"

His entire body goes rigid, and for a moment he just stands there, breathing heavily.

His voice has a strange edge when he finally finds it. "How about, just for a moment, you _consider_ the _possibility_ that I have _absolutely no idea_ what you're talking about." He scrubs a frustrated hand through his hair. "And you give me _some kind of explanation_."

For a split second, I meet his eyes, and I'm stunned to see the hurt in them. How dare he act like _he's_ the victim here?

"Fine," I grind out between my teeth. "I found the _love letter_ that you wrote to Nita." The words are even harder to say than I expected, and I can't stop the tears from starting to slip down my face. "Is that enough explanation?"

His lips part as he stares at me, and he shakes his head in a quick motion. "Tris…." His voice is rough. "I don't even _know_ anyone named Nita. And I sure as hell haven't written any love letters – to whoever she is, or to anyone else."

That's the last straw, and I can't help yelling my response. "Then why was it in _our apartment_, in _your writing_?"

He takes a half-step back, raising his hands in a defensive sort of movement. "I don't know how it got here," he begins slowly, "or why you think it's my writing, but I guarantee it is not. I haven't hand-written a letter since the last one I wrote to _you_, right after I returned Anna's ring. And I have _never_ written a love letter to anyone _except_ you."

It's another obvious lie, since I've never received a letter of any kind from him. Perhaps he realizes that, because he adds, "I didn't send them to you. I wrote them and then destroyed them."

His gaze drops to the floor, and he takes a deep breath as if he's trying to calm himself. "It's something we do in support…to help us put our feelings into words. We write to the people we wronged, and the ones who wronged us. We put it all in letter form, and then we destroy it as a way of trying to move on."

Despite how furious and hurt I am, something stirs inside me at the thought that he wrote to me repeatedly during our year apart.

A sudden realization crosses Tobias' face, and he glances quickly at the desk before looking at me again. "It's Dave's," he says abruptly, relief filling his expression. "From when he came here last week, in the middle of the night…whichever night that was. It must be his."

Tobias looks straight at me, imploring me to understand. And part of me tries. It really does.

Dave has only been Tobias' sponsee for a few weeks, and at this stage, he could be showing up at odd hours, seeking emergency help from his sponsor. I'm not aware of him coming by last week, but I might have slept through it. _Maybe._ And the letter is not complete, so it's not signed. It's not impossible for it to be Dave's.

"I made him empty his pockets," Tobias continues, "because he's from Dauntless. I assumed he had a knife or a gun, and he's still unstable enough to use them the wrong way. So, I had him dump everything on the desk." He steps over to it, placing his hands on the corner and adding, "Right here."

He looks back at me in desperate appeal, but I'm still torn. The spot he's indicating _is_ near where I found the letter – if it fell to the floor. But if it's Tobias', he would know where he's been keeping it, so that doesn't do anything to clear him.

"He must have missed the letter when he picked everything up afterwards," Tobias adds, nodding as if he's stating a fact. As if there should be no doubt.

Unfortunately for him, that rubs me the wrong way.

"It's still your handwriting," I snarl. That's the one fact he can't change, as much as I wish he could.

"It is _not_," he insists, his mouth flattening in hurt and anger. "A lot of guys have similar handwriting. You're seeing what you expect to see, but that doesn't make it mine."

That's a low blow – acting as if I'm imagining things and being paranoid. It's not as if I've seen a lot of Tobias' writing, but I've seen enough to recognize it. It's his.

I cross my arms, giving him the most withering glare I'm capable of producing. He returns it just as fiercely.

I'm not sure how long we stand like that before Tobias finally speaks again. "Fine." His voice is cold. "You don't believe me. So, let's go talk to Dave. Maybe you'll listen to _him_."

It's not a solution, and the reason why comes out of my mouth without requiring any thought. "Yes, because he's going to tell a complete _stranger_ the truth instead of defending his _sponsor_ while you're standing _right there_?"

Tobias grits his teeth. "Do you have any _suggestions_, then, Tris? Other than to assume I'm _guilty_ of something I _haven't done_?"

With that, we're back to glaring at each other. I know he's hoping I'll back down – that I'll assume he must be telling the truth or else he wouldn't be willing to let me talk to the person he's blaming. Logically, I know that.

But at the same time, some small part of me refuses to dismiss what he's saying. If there's even a remote chance that he really is innocent, I have to find out.

"I'll talk to him by myself," I mutter.

"No," Tobias says flatly. The response immediately raises my suspicions back to where they were, and I'm about to say that when he continues. "Dave is too dangerous at this stage in the program. You shouldn't be alone with him."

My mouth opens in protest, but again that tiny part stops me. There's something all too familiar about Tobias' expression – something that reaches me even through the haze of fury and betrayal filling my mind. He looks the way he did just before I left for Erudite, to surrender to Jeanine. Like he's terrified that I'll get hurt, or worse….

"What if Kevin goes with you?" he asks, his voice a bit desperate. It's a compromise, offering his sponsor's presence, and I can't think of a legitimate reason to object. That actually gives me pause, making me wonder again if maybe, just maybe, Tobias is telling the truth.

"Fine," I growl.

* * *

We don't talk on the way to Kevin's apartment, and we walk far enough apart to avoid any accidental contact. I don't look at him much, but on the few occasions when I do, I see him staring straight ahead, his face set in the stone mask that he wore during initiation.

He marches through the door of Erudite headquarters without pausing, and I try to do the same. I don't succeed, though. It's impossible to pass through this lobby without remembering the previous times I was here, and they're certainly not happy memories.

They get worse once we're walking the hallways, as I remember Peter escorting me to experiment after experiment that sucked away any remaining will I had to live. The longer we walk, the more my panic grows. I'm starting to hyperventilate even before I see the doorway.

_My execution room._

I stop in the middle of the corridor, unable to look away as flashbacks of my worst moments in this building flood through me. They mix with all the upset that's already filling my stomach and mind, and the combination is immobilizing. My heart is racing faster than I think it ever has, and I can't seem to catch my breath as I stare at the door that represents it all.

Time has frozen, and sound seems to have disappeared with it. There's nothing except my pulse racing through every part of me, somehow keeping me alive and threatening to kill me at the same time.

Tobias moves in front of me, his mouth forming words that I can't hear. His image merges with ones from my memories, and I don't know if he's real or a simulation – and if I love him or hate him. I just know that this is all way too much.

He grabs my arm firmly, hauling me back the way we came, and I follow as if he's Peter, forcing me back to my cell. Instead, he takes me into a stairway and presses me against the wall, giving me something to lean on as he stands directly in front of me.

"Tris." His voice is stern, and I try to meet his gaze, but I'm too lost in nightmare images. "Tris, listen to me." His hand cups my chin and lifts it, forcing me to look at him. "You're safe. Do you understand me? You are _not_ a prisoner. You are _not_ being attacked. No one is going to hurt you."

But I don't believe him. That's impossible under the circumstances.

Still, he doesn't give up. Instead, he holds me by the shoulders, standing so I can't see anything except him, and he continues talking in his deep voice.

"The war with Erudite is over. Jeanine is dead. Caleb is okay now, and so are we. It's all right, Tris. You're safe. You're safe."

I breathe harshly, in and out, trying to focus on his words and on the cold from the wall sinking into me. But it's hard…so hard. And it doesn't help that there's fear in Tobias' voice. Fear and pain and concern. Slowly, they make their way through my own confusion, helping me remember why we're here.

It's like replacing one horror with another.

Fury washes through me again, and I shove Tobias away from me. "Don't touch me," I snap. _He's lost that privilege._

For a second, he just stares, and then his mouth flattens into a line as the hurt returns to his eyes.

"Tris, I have _never_ cheated on you. _Ever._" He glares at me. "You're hurting both of us for no reason."

"I guess we'll see" is all I can hiss.

For another moment, he just stands there, breathing hard, his hands fisted at his sides. And then he shakes his head and turns away. His entire posture radiates anger as he starts up the stairs.

"We'll take a different route there," he calls without looking back.

It's a long walk – probably a lot longer than the route we started to take earlier – but at least this way, we don't pass by anything that makes me panic again. Well, no more than I have been for the last few hours, anyway.

Tobias finally stops in the middle of a hallway that looks like any other. He gestures me toward a door with a firm hand movement, not meeting my gaze.

"I'll wait out here," he snarls, "so I don't _bias_ Kevin into believing me." I've rarely heard him this hostile.

Nodding stiffly, I step toward the door, raising my hand to knock. Tobias speaks again before I complete the motion. "Tell him about the letter. He needs to prepare for Dave's reaction."

It's hard not to snap back, but something about his tone stops me, as it did earlier. And yet again, that little part of my brain reminds me that if Tobias is telling the truth – however unlikely that might be – then Dave is unstable and unpredictable and might not like that I read his letter. I can't let Kevin head into that blindly.

"Fine," I say resignedly. "Come in with me, so you can make sure I don't leave out anything he needs to know."

My tone is sharp again as I add, "But otherwise, let me do the talking."

Tobias shrugs, his expression cold as he raises his own hand and knocks loudly.

When Kevin answers the door, Tobias brushes right past both of us, walking quickly through the apartment and into the kitchen that I can make out behind the living room. Kevin watches his back for a moment before turning to me, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Come in, Tris," he says uncertainly.

It's more than a little awkward as I sink into the deep couch while Kevin takes the large chair across from me. His gaze rests on me, waiting for an explanation that I absolutely don't want to provide.

Finally, I slip the folded letter out of my pocket and hand it to him. He accepts it cautiously, opening it and reading its contents carefully. His eyebrows draw together, and his lips purse the further he gets, and he sits there quietly after his eyes stop moving, apparently thinking about the words.

"I found that in our apartment," I say stiffly. "It's in Tobias' writing."

"It is _not_," Tobias snaps from the kitchen.

Kevin glances toward him, while I glare at him angrily. He's trying to influence his sponsor's opinion before he can even form one.

Kevin gives a long sigh before fixing his gaze solidly on me. "Well, if you wanted a handwriting analysis, I assume you'd go to your brother or to Cara, since you know them both a lot better than me. Which means you're presumably here for a second opinion about whether this sounds like Tobias?"

I'm about to tell him the real reason we're here when it occurs to me that I'd rather hear what he has to say. So, I let him continue.

His expression is serious. "Honestly, it doesn't seem like something he'd write, even disregarding who it's addressed to." He scans part of the letter again. "It's pretty typical stuff for someone in support. Half the group might have written it. But even at his worst, Tobias didn't sound like this – he's always tended to blame himself more than this shows."

Kevin sits forward a little, making sure he has my attention as he adds, "And I've got to tell you…I can't imagine him cheating on you." I don't know if the words make me feel better or worse, since I can't make myself believe them, but I do feel them all the way through my gut.

"I've seen a lot of shit in my life," he mutters, "and done plenty of it, too. So, I know this type of thing happens. But for what it's worth, Tobias just doesn't seem the type." He shakes his head. "So, I'd like to hear his side of things."

I half-expect Tobias to speak up, but he doesn't. And when I glance in his direction, I see him staring at me, seeming to hold his breath as he waits for my answer.

The words catch in my throat as I force them out. "He said that Dave must have left it there. That's his new sponsee."

"I know." Kevin's gaze returns to the letter, and he re-reads part of it. "It could be his, but I can't honestly say I know him well enough to judge." His eyes move to the top, to the salutation. "I don't recognize the name, either, but that doesn't mean much. Dave is Dauntless, so he has plenty of exes."

He hands the letter back to me before leaning back, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Clearly, you're having trouble accepting this. So, I'm guessing that you want to go talk to Dave, but your husband doesn't want you going alone?" He raises an eyebrow, asking for confirmation, and I nod rigidly, trying not to think about the term "husband."

"Okay." He stands up. "All you had to do was ask."

* * *

Tobias leads us to Dave's apartment in silence, refusing to make eye contact with either of us. Kevin tries to communicate with him only once, on the train. He reaches out to pat his friend on the shoulder, but Tobias shies away sharply, and his sponsor leaves him alone after that. Kevin does give me an accusatory look, though, as if he blames me for this whole situation.

The longer the trip takes, the more that same part deep inside me wonders if he's right. I just don't know anymore – about anything. I've always trusted my gut, but at the moment it's too twisted with anguish to know what's real and what's not.

It doesn't help to walk the dark, cold hallways of Dauntless again. Tobias is everywhere here, in everything I see, and I don't want that reminder. It makes the pain even worse.

I'm glad when he finally stops in the middle of a long corridor, standing to the side and pointing. "That one," he says coldly. His mouth in a flat line, he finally looks at Kevin enough to address him. "Don't let Dave hurt her."

"You know I won't," Kevin reassures him firmly.

Before I can react, Tobias' gaze turns to me, and I'm startled to see the red around his eyes. Was he crying on the train?

"I'll be at the practice range, shooting, when you figure out I'm not a lying scumbag." The words tear unexpectedly at my heart, and as he turns on his heel and walks away, I'm filled with a sudden urge to believe him. To say that it's all okay, and that we'll get past this no matter what….

But I don't know if that's true. So, instead I just stare after him.

I'm startled when Kevin takes hold of my upper arm. "Come on," he says almost gently, turning me to face the door again. "Let's get this over with, or else you'll always have doubts." And he's right. I need a clear, undeniable answer, no matter what it is.

So, I wait as Kevin knocks loudly, twice, and as the door finally opens.

It's immediately obvious why Tobias didn't want me coming here alone. Dave is large – more than twice my weight, heavily muscled, and as tall as Tobias. He's also clearly drunk, moving with a wild energy that screams of potential violence. As if that's not bad enough, he's carrying a handgun that he waves at us much too casually for comfort.

"Give me that," Kevin snaps, taking the gun in an authoritative manner before Dave can process our presence enough to object. It's a smart move.

"What are you doing here?" Dave demands, his eyes moving between us in confusion.

"Random spot check," Kevin answers crisply, lying far more easily than I would have expected. "You're not supposed to be drinking at this stage in the program, so, we're going to have an impromptu meeting."

"Wha…" Dave sputters, looking guiltily at a bottle that's sitting on a small end-table. "I didn't know we had random checks."

"They're more effective when people don't know about them," Kevin says smoothly before walking to the end-table, picking up the bottle, and calmly emptying it into the sink in the small kitchenette.

"By the way, this is Tris. She's Tobias' wife."

Dave stares at me. "Yeah, I recognized her. Everyone knows Tris." It's a strange reminder of the role I've played in this city's survival.

"Not sure what you're doing here, though," Dave adds after a second.

I hesitate, not entirely sure I want to say this, but Kevin nods as he makes his way over to us again, standing nearby in what I recognize to be a ready stance. If Dave tries anything, he's prepared to act.

Swallowing, I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded piece of paper. "I found this when I was cleaning my apartment. Tobias thought it might be yours."

Dave takes it from my extended hand, looking at it curiously as he unfolds it with clumsy, drunk fingers. His face goes rigid when he sees what's inside.

"What the hell?" he asks, clearly startled and upset. "How did you get this?" His eyes snap to mine, suddenly far more alert than they were. "Is my fucking sponsor _reading_ my stuff?"

His voice rises to a yell as he adds, "Is he showing it to you?!" He waves the letter in my face, looking furious now as he snarls, "Did you read this?"

It's difficult to know how to respond, and I back away instinctively, not answering. Kevin, on the other hand, reacts immediately. Stepping between us, he grabs Dave's wrists in controlling locks.

The letter flutters to the floor as Kevin snaps, "Enough!" His voice is impossible to disobey. "You are _not_ going to attack your sponsor's wife!" I've never heard him speak with that type of authority, but I suppose he mastered it over decades of helping with the support group.

Dave's eyes move between us, anger distorting his appearance, before he slumps in defeat.

"Those are supposed to be _private_," he mutters petulantly. "She isn't supposed to read them."

"She didn't know what it was," Kevin explains in a soothing tone as he pulls Dave toward the couch. "She thought it was something Tobias wrote."

Looking back at me, he says sternly, "I'll see you later, Tris," before he turns his full attention to Dave.

I hesitate, uncertain if I should just leave Kevin to this mess after I'm the one who dragged him here, but it's obvious that he prefers to handle this alone. And he's undoubtedly faced many situations like this over the years.

So, I force myself through the door and down hallway after hallway, my body moving automatically while my thoughts race wildly.

_It was Dave's letter._ Out of everything that's happened today, that's the one fact that stands out the most. _Tobias was telling the truth._

Relief and guilt war within me, twisting through my insides in a way I haven't felt in a very long time. Not since I killed Will to end the simulation. Part of me knows this isn't nearly as extreme a betrayal as that day, but at the same time, I had far less of an excuse today.

No one was dying, or controlled by someone else. And yet I still put Tobias through all of this. For _nothing_. Why didn't I just trust him?

No matter how long I walk, I can't come up with an answer for that.

It's not until I'm standing outside the training room that I realize where my feet were carrying me. Apparently, my body knows where I need to be, even if my brain doesn't know how to have this conversation….

I'm not sure how long it takes me to open the door, but finally I do. The room looks just the way I remember it, and I get a strange sense of déjà vu as I watch Tobias shooting at a target. He stands solidly in place, the only figure in the room, as he fires another round through the heart of the man-shaped paper.

He doesn't look at me as I make my way slowly toward him. Theoretically, it's possible that he can't hear me over the gunfire, but I know better. He's too hurt and angry to want to see me. I don't blame him.

Stopping a few feet away, I close my eyes against the heat that's prickling behind them.

"I'm sorry, Tobias." It's not much more than a whisper, but I have no doubt he can hear it.

He's still staring at the target when I find the strength to open my eyes again. Slowly, he lowers the gun he's holding.

His voice is rough when he speaks. "I spent eight years thinking that my mother was dead. That whole time, I was sure that Marcus had killed her for having an affair."

The words sink deep into me, and I can barely breathe as he continues in the same strangled tone. "Even after I learned she was alive, I still thought that she'd left me to be with _him_. With whoever the 'other man' was."

He finally turns to face me, and my heart misses a beat at the pain in his expression.

"When I say that I would never cheat on you, I _mean it_. I could never even _consider_ it after that." He swallows hard. "Frankly, I'd be much more likely to hit you again, and you _know_ what kind of lengths I've gone to to make sure _that_ never happens."

For another long moment, he holds my gaze, and the intensity renders me utterly unable to speak as what he said strikes home. We both have our vulnerable spots, and I hit one of his worst ones today – hard. When he didn't deserve it at all.

He doesn't say anything else, instead turning back to the target, raising his weapon, and firing again. I can't seem to get anything out through the tightness in my chest, so I stand in silence, watching him shoot bullet after bullet through the same hole in his target. Right through its heart.

My body finally moves on its own, finding its way to collect a gun and load it as if that's the only thing it knows how to do in this room. I stand a couple of targets away from Tobias, shooting at a traditional set of circles, trying to hit the bull's eye the way I did in training so long ago.

But it does nothing to clear my thoughts. If anything, it makes them worse.

Tobias taught me how to shoot. And he taught me again after I lost the ability – or the nerve. As I hold the gun now, I picture every way that changed my life, in excruciating detail, lingering on how Caleb would be dead if it weren't for Tobias.

I don't notice that there are tears streaming down my face until they blur my vision too much to aim. Staggering over to the table, I drop the gun on it and grab the edges in clenched hands, holding myself upright as the grief and guilt take over. As everything I've done today comes to a head.

_How could I have treated Tobias that way?_ He's never done _anything_ to earn that kind of distrust, but I automatically assumed he was guilty the moment there was a shred of evidence to make me worry.

Every part of me wants so much to be able to go back four hours and give myself a good, hard shake. To force me past my fears and insecurities enough to see the _truth_. But instead I'm stuck with the consequences of my mistake….

I don't even know if it's possible to fix this.

It doesn't register that the shooting has stopped until I hear the clank of Tobias' gun dropping onto the table next to mine. Firm hands grasp my shoulders, turning me toward him before he pulls me tightly against his chest.

My face presses into him, automatically seeking out his heartbeat as his hands slide down my back, holding me close. And I do something I almost never do – I sob into his shirt as I clutch at him desperately, wanting to feel his presence against every part of me.

He buries his face in my hair, his frame shaking, and I realize that he's crying, too. That's even rarer, and it makes me weep harder.

"I'm sorry, Tobias," I choke out. "I'm so, so sorry."

He strokes my hair, soothing me despite everything I've done to him, as I repeat the words over and over.

"I should have trusted you," I manage to add after an eternity of the same phrase. I'm rocking back and forth in agitation now, but neither of us loosens our grip. "I should have known you wouldn't do that."

"It's just…." A hiccup interrupts the sentence, and I try again. "When I read it, I formed this image in my head. Of you and…_her_." Tobias' body stiffens against me. "And I couldn't get it out. No matter what you said, or how much sense it made, I just couldn't erase that image. And I couldn't think past it."

There's a shift in Tobias' breathing. Whether for good or bad, I have no idea.

It's close to a minute before he speaks, his throat tight. "I can kind of understand that." He runs his hand down my hair again, gently. "It took me a…_very_ long time to stop thinking about Uriah kissing you." His voice is quiet. "An embarrassingly long time."

A strangled sound comes out of me. It might be a laugh, but I can't really tell.

Our red eyes meet as he gives me a sad half-smile. "I don't want to be mad anymore," he says softly. There are too many emotions wrapped up in that sentence for me to process anything except relief.

He kisses the top of my head, his breath warm on my forehead. "Besides, you've forgiven me for worse things than a false accusation. So, I guess I owe you this one."

It's a peace offering, and I know I should just accept it. But somehow I can't.

Shaking my head, I say, "That's not how it works, Tobias. I _forgave_ you – that means I can't hold it over you anymore." I pull back enough to meet his gaze. "You don't _owe_ me anything."

For a second, he stares at me, his mouth opening a little as he absorbs that. He looks deeply moved.

His fingers caress my cheek lightly. "Then, I'll just have to forgive you, too," he whispers.

A sharp pain presses out from my chest, as if it can't contain the swell of feelings that go with his words.

"I love you, Tobias. So much."

The hint of a smile touches his lips before he brings them to mine. It's a long, tender kiss that speaks of hope and faith and a future that's somehow been saved from the damage I inflicted today.

"I love you, too," he murmurs, dropping his forehead against mine. It's impossible to say how long we stand together that way, before we eventually move, cleaning the room by some unspoken agreement. After two years as an instructor in this faction, I suppose the habit is too ingrained in Tobias for him to do anything else.

He leans close to me as we're picking up the bullet casings, his fingers brushing mine gently. "You know," he whispers into my ear, "Zeke is always talking about how good make-up sex is."

I look up quickly, feeling the redness in my cheeks. But any embarrassment disappears when I stare into his deep blue eyes. "Christina says the same thing." I shift so I'm even closer to him, our breaths sharing the same air. "I think we should find out if they're right."

A grin slips over his face, and I can almost hear his heart rate increase. "How quickly do you think we can get home?" he asks.

But a mischievous impulse goes through me as I glance around the room. Biting my lip, I say, "That door has a lock, Tobias. If you know where the key is…."

It takes him a split second to understand, and then his eyes widen as he stops breathing for a moment. "I do," he finally whispers.

It's a nice choice of words.

* * *

_**A/N: It's okay if you didn't like this chapter, but maybe you still liked parts of it? Also, out of curiosity, did you believe Tobias was guilty at first? If so, when did you realize he wasn't?**_

_**By the way, the next few chapters are much friendlier, so please hang in there. There's good stuff coming! :-)**_


	43. Chapter 43: Tris - Letting Go

_**A/N: I'm sorry this is a few days late. It's been an incredibly busy last couple of weeks. Anyway, t**__**hank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! Your reviews helped me figure out where she and I were seeing the last chapter differently. For those of you who agreed with her, I'll give just a quick explanation:**_

_**I see Tris and Tobias as both still doubting themselves severely at times. They've helped each other with that a lot, but having grown up in Abnegation, it's easy for them to fall into the trap of thinking, "everyone else is better and more important than I am," and sometimes they're each afraid that the other will wake up one day and realize that they should be with someone much better. Tris found a very incriminating letter in their private space, where no one else usually comes, and it looked like Tobias' writing, and she fell into that trap. She then spent hours reading and rereading it and obsessing over it and convincing herself more and more, and by the time Tobias came home, she was in way too deep to listen. It also didn't help that she's usually right; that made it harder for her to realize that this time, she just wasn't. But they got past it and are stronger for it. So, moving on...**_

* * *

**Chapter 43: Tris – Letting Go**

It's taken two months of renovations, but we finally have the apartment next to ours ready for furniture. It's a unique space – not community rooms for the faction or living space for someone else – but I think it will be very helpful to have.

Half of it consists of a two-person office. Tobias and I will both use it as needed – whenever we're working on faction papers or the myriad of other things we do for Anna and the city council. It will give us a dedicated work space, so we no longer have to clutter our apartment up with paperwork or feel like we're dragging our jobs into our personal space at the end of the day.

The other half is a new concept. After the debacle with Dave's letter, Tobias decided that he didn't like having his sponsees come into our apartment in the middle of the night. We both learned from that experience, and he knows that I would never assume the worst again the way I did that day. Still, the more he thought about it afterwards, the more he realized that if he doesn't trust a sponsee to be alone with me, then he doesn't want that sponsee near me when I'm asleep in bed.

So, we added two rooms to the new apartment for him to use with his sponsees: a small living room for counseling sessions with them, and an even smaller bedroom, in case anyone needs to stay the night. That hasn't come up so far, but apparently it happens at times with people in support.

We spend the morning getting the furniture in place, with help from our faction-mates. George and Uriah drive back and forth to the resource allocation center, picking everything up and delivering it here. And Zeke and Amar help us get it all upstairs and into the apartment.

Amar laughs when he and Tobias carry a bookcase in and see Zeke collapsed on the couch we just finished setting up.

"Did you make Tris drag it there with you in it?" he quips as he lugs the bookcase past us.

"Well, duh," Zeke responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "How else could I test its wheels?"

"You could lie on the floor and let it roll over you," Tobias suggests, deadpan, as he maneuvers his end of the bookcase carefully through the office doorway.

"That's _Uriah's_ job," Zeke calls after him. "I wouldn't want to mess with our division of labor."

There's a pause before Tobias and Amar reenter the living room, rubbing their hands to restore circulation.

"Just how did the other women get out of this, anyway?" Amar questions, looking at me.

"Well, it's Cara's turn to make lunch," I say with a shrug, "Christina's at work, and _someone_ has to watch Lionel, so Shauna's with him."

"Wait…Christina's at work on a _Saturday_?" Zeke asks, his tone a bit incredulous as he shakes his head slowly. "Man, I could've gotten away with that…."

And it dawns on me that he's right. Christina must have requested the extra shift today, if she's even really there. She's still Candor enough to know how to lie well, so on the rare occasions that she does, I almost always miss it. She could be anywhere today.

"Come to think of it," Amar adds, "I don't think Christina has ever helped _anyone_ move _anything_ into this faction."

"She's afraid of moths getting into the moving boxes," Tobias says casually as he walks past me to where Zeke is now taking up the entire couch. In a single, smooth motion, he yanks his best friend up, sending him staggering several feet. With a grin at me, Tobias drops onto the now-vacant couch, gesturing for me to join him.

I do, tucking myself against him and smiling broadly at Zeke as he regains his footing and glares at my husband.

"Moths, huh," Amar responds, nodding and pursing his lips thoughtfully. Zeke launches himself abruptly at Tobias, and I scramble over the side of the sofa to get out of the way as the two of them tumble over the back of it and onto the floor, wrestling in a match that reminds me of Dauntless.

"Yeah, I could see her with a moth kind of fear," Amar finishes, watching his two former initiates with an utterly unfazed expression. "But at least with new furniture like this, we don't have to worry about _rats_…." He emphasizes the last word so loudly it's almost a shout, and I can't help but laugh as Zeke makes a startled squeak in response. The distraction allows Tobias to throw him clear and get back on his feet. Apparently, large vermin are one of Zeke's fears.

"Ready for the other bookcase?" Tobias asks, straight-faced, as he extends a hand to his best friend.

"Sure," Zeke answers cheerily, letting Tobias pull him up as if nothing happened. I shake my head as I watch them leave. The longer we live here, the more Zeke's style seems to rub off on the entire faction. But maybe that's a good thing.

Amar draws my attention when he sags onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion.

"I thought they'd never leave," he mutters.

Laughing, I drop down next to him. "Are we making them get the rest of the furniture?"

"Yep," he responds, propping his feet up on a box. "They've got it."

* * *

After lunch, the others return to their own activities while Tobias and I begin moving our papers into our new office. It's a good opportunity to clear out anything old, since we've accumulated a surprising amount in the four years we've lived in our apartment.

We're sitting on the end of our bed, sorting through stacks of papers, when I come across something that reminds me a little too much of that moment two months ago: a hand-written letter.

This time, though, I don't read it, instead placing it immediately on Tobias' pile. His expression turns serious when he sees it.

"I thought we might come across this one today." He picks it up, looking at it with a bittersweet expression.

"Should I ask?"

"It's one of the support group letters," he states, confirming my suspicion. "But I actually wrote this one." There's a trace of amusement in his voice as he adds, "You can tell because it's in my writing."

I smack his arm lightly, and he chuckles as he pulls me into his lap, kissing the side of my head. "And because it's to you," he murmurs.

For a second, I stare at my husband, but his eyes have already turned back to the letter, rereading something he presumably hasn't seen in years.

"It's the only one I didn't destroy after I finished it." He seems lost in memory. "I had a little ritual for how I'd destroy them. I'd go to the roof of the Hancock building, and I'd burn them while letting the height terrify me. And I'd watch as the ashes scattered in the wind."

He lifts one shoulder. "It was supposed to help me let go of what I'd written, but it worked better with letters to Marcus and Evelyn. With dark emotions in general." He turns the page over to read the back. "This one was different. It was a kind of goodbye, and it didn't feel right to burn it."

I nod a little, biting my lip. "Should I read it?" It seems like that might be why he kept it all this time.

He doesn't answer for a long while, as he finishes rereading his words from five years ago.

"If you want to," he finally says, his voice low. "Though I think maybe Zeke was right about me being a mopey bastard then. It's angsty and rough, but it's where I was at that point in my life."

The back of his fingers brush gently along my cheek. "Don't judge me for that, okay?"

"I won't," I murmur as I take the letter, my hands shaking slightly.

He shifts me off his lap, kissing me on the cheek before he stands up. Gathering an armful of papers, he explains, "I'm going to put this stuff away in the office." It's obvious why he's doing that – he doesn't want to watch my reaction as I read. And that's fair enough; I'm not sure I want to be watched during that process.

So, I let my gaze follow him out the door before I turn to the letter that was written to me and yet was never intended to be sent.

* * *

I gave the ring back to Anna today. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Not as bad as sitting in that cell in Erudite while I thought they were executing you – but plenty tough anyway.

It reminded me far too much of leaving you. And it didn't help that I _really_ liked carrying that ring around. I haven't quite admitted that to Kevin, but I'm sure he knows.

I only had it for a few weeks, but it made me feel close to you. The whole trip to Pittsburgh did, but you know that from my last letter. This one is about having something precious for that short time, and then giving it up.

It was kind of like our relationship.

I loved holding it. I could look at it and remember seeing you with it, in the bomb shelter and in the pawn shop. I could almost picture it on your hand, and it gave me strength just to have it with me.

It was in my pocket on Choosing Day, too – not that that's an accurate name for the day anymore, without a choosing ceremony. Anyway, I went to Dauntless then, just to torture myself I suppose. I walked the route I did the first time I met you, remembering how you looked as I showed you your new faction. I never told you how beautiful I thought you were that first day, with your hair in the Abnegation bun and your eyes so fierce and Dauntless. Perfect.

I walked down to our spot at the bottom of the Chasm, to where we kissed for the first time. And I took the ring out and imagined proposing to you. It was stupid, and I know it, but in a different world, if things hadn't fallen apart the way they did, that's where I think I would have asked you. And when.

I'll always wonder if you would have said yes.

Zeke tried to set me up with someone last week. I don't even know her name. I'd told him no dozens of times, so he brought her here, to the faction, for dinner. He claimed she was just visiting Shauna, but it was obvious what they were doing when they tried to get me to sit across from her and talk to her. Maybe I shouldn't have been so rude in response, but they just don't get it. I don't want anyone else – at all. I don't think I ever will.

Sometimes, I don't know how I had the strength to leave you in the first place. I certainly spend plenty of time thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't. Seven months and twenty-five days of wondering so far…. Kevin keeps saying it will get easier eventually, but I don't see much evidence of that.

I do know that it's better this way, though, no matter how much I hate it. Even when I'm asleep, I know that. The dreams always start well, with the two nights we spent together. Those are the best memories I have, and I know that's why I always start there.

But they never end well. I've hurt you so many times in my nightmares, and it kills me every time. Particularly since I'm sure that's what would have happened if I'd stayed. Group has taught me that, as if I couldn't figure it out from Marcus. I just didn't have the self-control then, or the self-knowledge, to stop myself from becoming like him.

That may not be true now. I keep remembering that dream I had in Pittsburgh – the one where you were holding our baby, and Marcus stood beside you and thanked me for making sure the abuse ended with him. It was just a dream, but I'd like to think it means something. That it's my mind letting me know that I've grown and that there's hope for the future.

But I suppose Dad thought that once, too. When I was a kid, I always assumed that he _chose_ to hurt me, but these days, I find myself thinking differently about his life.

He was undoubtedly abused, too, when he was young. Did he try hard not to be like that? Did he hate himself for what he became, and what he did? Or did he embrace being on the other side of it after years of being a victim?

I'll never get answers to those questions, and maybe that's why they haunt me so much. They seem to go hand-in-hand with the thought of you and that baby. More and more, I find myself obsessing over that image, and it's tough to say which I hate more – the idea that I'll never have that, or the thought that if I somehow do, I could still turn into him despite everything I've done in the last seven months.

I always swore I wouldn't take that chance, you know. That I wouldn't get married or have kids. I was fine being alone, until I met you. It doesn't seem like it should be so hard to get used to being that way again.

Some of the guys in group get impatient with me over that. They clearly think I'm just a kid with a crush – a first love that I'll get over as soon as I meet someone else. But I know better. I saw in Pittsburgh how much my broadcast changed people. They love you because I do. If it weren't real – if it weren't _permanent_ – they wouldn't have reacted that way. I wouldn't be reacting the way I have since I left you, either.

A few days ago, I was walking down the hallway when I heard Christina talking to you on her computer. You have no idea what your voice did to me. I froze, and I just stood there, listening, while it simultaneously ripped my chest open and healed everything inside me. I wanted so much to go in there, just close enough to see you on the monitor.

I think about your face every day, and I've dredged through countless hours of security footage to find old pictures of you, but to actually _see_ you…. God, I wanted that. I told myself that if you asked about me, I'd do it. And I waited through the whole conversation, just hoping. But you never did.

Afterwards, I finally dared to ask Christina if you ever talk about me. She tried to be gentle in her answer, but it didn't change the facts. You don't. And I don't blame you.

You've moved on, and the thing is…you deserve that. You _should_ be with someone who loves you, and will never hurt you. Someone who isn't broken. Someone who can have kids with you and actually be a _parent_ to them. Someone who will give you a complete life.

As much as I hate the thought, I know that someone isn't me. And that means I have to let you go. It's not going to happen with time, or by meeting someone else. It's only going to happen if I make that decision.

So, Tris, this is me letting you go. As best I can.

I want you to know that I'm a better person for having known you. You worked your way into every part of my life and opened me up and made me want to improve. To stop keeping secrets. And to start being kinder. Most of all, you taught me how to love.

And even though I know our relationship was lopsided, and that you didn't care as much as I did, it still means the world to me that you loved me at all. No one else ever did – not really – and I needed that more than I can say.

Because of you, I've learned to be a better friend, and I'm trying to build a relationship with my mother and sister. I may never be great at any of that, but I am slowly improving.

I'm making progress on trusting myself, too, a little at a time. It's a long, painful process, and I'm nowhere near done, but I am absolutely determined to get there. I will never stop working to become someone trustworthy, and worthwhile.

Tris, I would never have done any of that without you. You changed me more than you can possibly imagine. More than Marcus did, even, but in a _good_ direction. I will always be grateful for that.

And that means that it's okay for you to move on. I accept that reality, because I truly want you to be happy. I feel like I could live with what I've done if I knew you had that.

So, I want you to promise me that, Tris. Promise on Anna's ring that whatever you go on to do, and wherever you live, and whoever you end up with, you'll be happy. Promise you'll live the life you deserve. For both of our sakes, promise me that.

And I promise you that I will be the best person I can possibly be. If we ever meet again, my hope is that you'll be proud of me. I want to deserve that.

In the meantime, I'm going to say this one last time: I love you. From the very core of my being. I always will.

Live well.

– Tobias

* * *

My eyes close as my fingers tighten on the paper, and I sit there in silence for a very long time. I can't even form my thoughts into words. I just feel Tobias' pain and hope and growth and love winding around each other through my heart.

I'm on my feet before I realize it – am standing in our office doorframe, staring at my husband as he looks back at me somewhat nervously. He's sitting in one of the two rolling chairs, a pile of papers on the desk next to him.

It seems to takes no time at all for me to cross the room and to sit on his lap, straddling it so I can face him.

"You're not mopey," I whisper. "You're strong, and amazing, and perfect, and I am _so_ proud of you, Tobias."

An almost shy smile forms on his face, and I can see relief in his eyes. Clearly, he was more worried about my reaction than he let on.

"It was strange to read it again," he admits softly. "I remember writing it, and feeling everything that's in there, but at the same time, it's like that was someone else. Someone who was desperate and alone and miserable." His lips lift again. "And I'm not, now."

"So, you don't feel the same way anymore?" I ask, smiling just a little.

"That depends on which part you mean. I still love you, obviously." He gives a wry chuckle. "But I'd have a hell of a time letting you go again."

I bite my lip. "Do you still feel like you care more than I do?"

He considers that for a long time, his eyes on me. "No," he finally answers. "I was convinced of that then, but now…I think that we both love each other more than enough."

It's a wise answer, and it makes me feel warmer inside. "Do you still worry about turning into Marcus?" Swallowing nervously, I add, "Is that why you don't want to have kids?"

He shakes his head. "There will always be a little of that fear in the back of my mind, but that's a good thing. It helps me remember why I need to keep my temper under control, and it gets me to go to group even when I'm not in the mood. And I suppose it nudges me to sponsor people who need help. I wouldn't want to lose that. But it doesn't keep me from moving forward with my life."

His fingers wrap around my chin, making sure I'm facing him as he meets my gaze solidly. "And I do want kids, Tris. Eventually. Just not yet." He's silent for a little while, his expression thoughtful. "It's hard to explain, but _this_…." He gestures between us. "Is something I never expected to have. And I love it. I love being with you, and married to you, and…_everything_ about it. I just want to savor that before we change it. That's all."

His expression pleads with me to understand, and I nod slowly in response. Maybe he's right. Children certainly change things, after all. They can bring a tremendous amount of joy, but a relationship is different with them than without. And we're young. We have plenty of time to have kids later. Now can just be about us.

"Okay," I murmur, leaning forward and resting my forehead against his. "I can wait." My mind returns to the letter, and to his words in it, and I add softly, "And I am happy, Tobias. I promise you on _my_ ring that I am very, very happy with you."

The grin that spreads across his face warms my heart.

"I love you, Tris." He kisses me gently.

"I love you, too," I whisper against his lips. "And I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

But he shakes his head. "I'm not." He pulls back enough to meet my gaze. "I had to go through that in order to get here today. It was something I needed. And my life today…is _more_ than worth it. Don't ever feel sorry for me."

For another moment, we hold each other's gaze, and then I ask, "What should we do with the letter?"

He cocks his head as he considers that. "I think we should destroy it together." His voice is decisive. "The way people do in support. We could do that to let go of the year we spent apart. It seems like time to do that."

I nod thoughtfully, a small smile forming on my lips. "I think I'd like that," I say softly.

* * *

_**A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Work and home are both still crazy busy, so it's difficult to carve out time to write, but your encouragement really helps with that! Speaking of which, I want to take a moment to thank the three guest reviewers who have been reading my stories over the last few days and have been reviewing almost every chapter as they go. It is absolutely wonderful when people do that - you make my day more than you could know, and I truly and deeply appreciate the support. So, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has ever done that! :-)**_


	44. Chapter 44: Tobias - Unexpected

**A/N: Thank you, as always, to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to everyone who has favorited or followed this story! Your support really means a lot to me. Thank you also to the guest who caught a typo in "Determinant" recently. I work very hard at having my writing be "clean," so I hate it when I miss a typo; I always appreciate having those pointed out so I can correct them. :-) Finally, thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie, for turning this chapter around within hours of when I sent it to her!**

**Chapter 44: Tobias – Unexpected**

It's more than a little strange to see Peter when he walks into a support session one day in November. I know that he shares the same type of background I do – that he was abused by his birth father for the first half of his childhood. And given what he did to Tris eight years ago, it's obvious that he has violent tendencies himself. So, this group is certainly the right place for him if he wants to do something about that.

I just never thought that he would.

Martin takes him aside for the first hour, explaining the rules of the program and making sure that he's willing to agree to them before letting him join the general session. By that time, almost everyone has finished sharing, but Peter watches the last few people talk about themselves and the challenges they're currently facing.

He stays silent through it, which is common enough for first visits, and I find myself watching him, trying to figure out if he's here for any reason beyond the obvious. It could be my personal bias, but I can't help suspecting that someone ordered him to attend – probably Anna, since he works for her now.

He approaches me at the end of the session, presumably since I'm the only person here he knows. Not surprisingly, our conversation is stiff and strained, but I do my best to answer his questions about the program and what makes it work. He's thoughtful in response – more so than I expected – and I gradually find myself giving him the benefit of the doubt and deciding that he's here for legitimate reasons.

That's when he asks me to be his sponsor.

"That seems like a bad idea," I tell him honestly. "I'm not exactly objective toward you."

"Yeah, I know," he admits, kicking awkwardly at the floor. "But that's kind of the point…." He gives a small shrug. "You won't take any crap from me, and I…sort of need that."

I sigh, looking at him levelly as I debate whether I can handle sponsoring someone who tried to kill my wife. Yes, it was a long time ago, and yes, he did save her life later, but it's still the first thing that runs through my mind whenever I see him.

"_Exactly_ why are you interested in this program, Peter? What happened?"

He shakes his head a little. "Nothing."

It's an obvious lie, and I give him my best withering look in response. But I don't say anything, instead letting the long silence force him to give a real answer. It's a technique I learned from Kevin, and it's far more effective than badgering someone with questions.

"Well…nothing extreme. I got into an argument with a girl I was dating. Apparently, I was yelling too much." He rolls his eyes. "Next thing I knew, someone was pulling me off her."

His expression is defensive. "It's not like I beat her up or anything. But everyone in the UCA is hypersensitive to abuse." He stops short of blaming my broadcast for that, but he's clearly implying it. "You can't even have a normal fight there, and I'm sick of not being able to date because of it."

I raise a skeptical eyebrow. My voice is cold when I ask, "How many times did you hit her, Peter?"

For a solid ten seconds, he glares at me, but I return it with my hardest instructor look, and eventually he flushes. "See, that's why I need someone who won't take any crap," he mutters.

"The number, Peter."

"I slapped her," he admits in the quietest voice I've ever heard him use. "A couple of times." He stares at his feet for another long moment before adding, "Maybe more. I was furious, and I…lost track."

The words strike a nerve, and it's impossible not to picture his hands around Tris' throat, holding her over the chasm. After he _touched_ her. Did he _lose track_ then, too?

It takes a huge amount of effort to force myself past that thought, but this conversation isn't about me or Tris – not really. It's about whether or not I'm willing to help Peter, and anyone he might date in the future.

"You're in Chicago – what, half time?" I double-check, my voice stiff. I know he travels with Anna now, so he must be in Philadelphia at least half of each month.

He nods.

"You realize that Anna will have to be your female advisor?" I ask. "She's the only one who will be around you regularly enough. Are you willing to give her that kind of control over your life?"

He pales as he thinks about that for a long time, and I understand why. It was extremely difficult for me to let Christina serve that role for me, knowing that she wouldn't overlook _anything_ and that she would force me to stay true to the program. But ultimately, that's exactly what I needed, and I'm glad I picked her over Cara and Shauna. I can definitely see Anna working out the same way for Peter.

He apparently arrives at the same conclusion, because he gives a rough nod. "Yeah." After a moment, he adds, "I guess Adam will have to be my male advisor. He's the only guy who travels back and forth with us."

"Are you okay with him in that role?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Peter answers somewhat dismissively, and I immediately know that Adam must have too mild a personality for this. Peter wouldn't be that comfortable with him otherwise. But Anna will definitely not go easy on him, and if I take him on as a sponsee, I certainly won't, either. Maybe that's enough to balance the team.

"You'll have to do extra sessions every week you're in Chicago," I insist, "to make up for the ones you miss the other weeks. And you'll have to _really_ stick to it. I'm not taking you on if you're not serious about doing the work."

Something flares behind his eyes – some mix of anger and determination that I recognize. For maybe the first time since I've known him, I actually believe him when he answers. "I'll do what it takes."

"I'll think about it, then," I tell him. Looking him straight in the eye, I add, "But Tris will have to agree, too. I'm not putting her in the position of being around you without her agreeing in advance, not after what you did to her."

He scoffs, looking away. "Whatever. We worked together for a year, so she'll be fine."

The answer sets me even more on edge. He has had a vicious attitude toward Tris from the very beginning, and in this moment, I realize that I need to know why before I can remotely consider sponsoring him.

"You know, I've always wondered," I begin, working very hard to keep my voice level, "why you went after Tris the way you did during initiation."

He shrugs, clearly not wanting to answer the question, but I wait as I did before.

"I needed someone to distract the others," he finally admits, "from my scars."

His mouth turns down at the corners. "And she was the smallest, and a Stiff, and I figured she was going to wash out anyway, so what did it matter?"

For a few seconds, I evaluate him, before deciding that it's not quite a lie but certainly isn't a complete answer.

"The _Stiffs_ kept you alive when you were factionless," I point out, "so I would have thought you'd feel some gratitude toward her."

"No," he snaps, clearly angry. "They kept me with the man who did _this_!" He gestures toward his torso, which I know is covered with cigarette burns and knife scars. And as his expression twists with hatred, I understand a different perspective on the faction of my birth.

I always thought of Abnegation as the only ones who stood up for the factionless – providing them with food and clothing and keeping the Dauntless from killing them in an attempt to "protect" the factions from them.

But that wasn't nearly enough to make their lives bearable. They didn't have medical care, or heat, or electricity, or decent houses. Their children couldn't attend school, and absolutely no one interfered when they were hurt.

The _selfless_ faction had all of those advantages – outside of my house, anyway – but they didn't share them. They didn't even adopt factionless children – arguing instead that the government should support those families and help them keep their own children. It was the Candor who did most of the adopting, feeling that it was honest and just to give every child a chance to go to school and to select a future regardless of their parents' failures.

From Peter's perspective, it would have been better if Abnegation had done _nothing_. Then, his parents would have been forced to give him up for adoption much earlier, instead of keeping him in hell for a decade.

I nod a little, feeling the full failure of our faction system the way it was. It's not nearly enough to make me forgive Peter for what he did to Tris, but it does help me understand why he hated her so much, when she'd done absolutely nothing to him.

And why he got angrier and angrier when his attempts to put her down didn't work and she instead kept proving herself to be more Dauntless than he was…. It was worst of all, I suppose, when she saved his life, leaving him indebted to the faction he hated.

The absurdity would make me laugh if it hadn't caused so much pain.

A long sigh comes out of me as I run a frustrated hand up the back of my head. "I'll think about your request," I tell him, "and let you know."

For once in his life, he looks almost grateful.

* * *

I get home before Tris, since she's helping Anna with some negotiations today and planned to stay there for dinner. Occasionally, I think life would be easier if we both worked regular jobs, but we like variety too much to settle for something mundane.

Everyone else in the faction has already eaten, so I grab some leftovers from the refrigerator and wander into the gathering room, where Amar and George are having a quiet discussion while the others have fun in the game room.

"Really, is it any different than what the Amity do?" Amar is asking as I take a seat on the couch opposite them, balancing my plate on my lap.

"Maybe not, but I don't think that's fair, either," George counters. "It was one thing when NUSA was out there, and this city had a distinct purpose, but people should have free will now."

"What's going on?" I ask, a bit startled by that snatch of conversation.

"You won't like it," George comments, leaning back and looking at me with his Erudite expression. When I just cock an eyebrow at him, he shrugs and continues. "Some people in Candor want to get the law changed so they can start using Suggestibility Serum again. They want to include it in a drink for their members."

"_Why?_" comes out of my mouth immediately. After decades of NUSA and Chicago both being controlled by that serum, I can't imagine anyone _choosing_ to use it again – well, except Amar during his therapy sessions.

My former instructor is the one who answers. "Well, as you can imagine, people aren't as attached to the faction ideals these days." He gives a humorless smile. "Before we stopped adding the serum to the drinking water, it was always in our systems, and it made most people suck up the beliefs they were taught. And _want_ to live them." He shakes his head. "Without it, they're essentially all Divergent."

George looks a bit sour as he adds, "The purists are saying that it's ruining our society."

"So, they want to brainwash the next generation instead of accepting change?" I ask, disgusted by the thought. There's a damned good reason Tris put strict laws around that serum.

"They say it would be optional to drink it," George answers, "and that they would label it. But yes, I think that's what they're basically trying to do, particularly since parents would decide for their kids." His expression shows his frustration. "I suppose that's my biggest objection to it, though I also know that realistically, people would end up being pressured to drink it. And then there's the whole slippery slope problem – it's much too easy to abuse that serum."

"I completely agree," Amar states, meeting his husband's gaze. "Trust me, I'm as wary of that serum as you are. But I still have to ask how it's any different from Amity adding peace serum to their bread?"

Peter is clearly still on my mind, because the question makes me think about Tris being drugged back in Amity, after she fought with him. For those few hours, the injection changed her personality considerably more than anyone should be allowed to do. Is that really any different than using Suggestibility Serum to alter someone's thoughts and behavior? And if not, then what should we do about that?

"You might be right," I tell Amar, an uncomfortable feeling working its way into my stomach. "The Amity voted it in themselves, but that doesn't necessarily make it fair. And it's almost as easy to misuse. Maybe we _should_ restrict it the same way."

"But then what about Dauntless' fear serum?" George asks. "Or Candor's truth serum? Why should those be allowed?" He doesn't mention Erudite, of course, since their use of serums has been tightly controlled since the war.

"Maybe they should _all_ be outlawed," Amar suggests. It's hard to tell from his expression if he means it seriously or is expecting us to object. Either way, it makes me think.

Both of those serums certainly have the potential to be weaponized. I've seen it. Why _should_ they be permitted?

"You have a point," I admit, leaning back and letting my dinner sit untouched as I think about what it would do to the factions to eliminate all serums. Would it harm them, or push them to live more truly to their ideals?

"Yes, you do," George agrees slowly, looking deep in thought. "Maybe Tris should take it to the city council."

I don't bother to ask why he's suggesting my wife for that task. If anyone stands a chance of getting people to listen, it's Tris.

A tired sigh comes out of me. "I'll add it to the list to talk to her about. Right after we discuss Peter."

For a moment, they just look startled. "The Peter who went on our mission?" Amar asks uncertainly.

I nod. "He came to group today. And asked me to be his sponsor."

We're silent as they digest that. "Good for him," George finally says. "I'm glad to see he's facing his issues."

Amar, though, doesn't look nearly as pleased. "It may be good for _him_. But I don't know about you sponsoring him, Four." He meets my gaze, and I can see the hesitation in him. Whatever he wants to say, he's not entirely sure he should.

But after a few seconds, he shrugs off his qualms. "If you take him on, that pretty much means you and Tris won't be having kids anytime soon, since I doubt you'd want him around her while she's pregnant." He frowns. "And don't you think you've waited long enough for _that_ already?"

The words are more than a little unexpected, and I sit up straight, my dinner forgotten as I stare at him. He has never once talked to me about children, so I have to wonder where this is coming from.

"Has Tris said something about that?" I ask, feeling a flood of strange emotions going through me. I don't know why the hell she would be talking to _Amar_ about this subject.

His face is stern as he shakes his head. "No. She's not one to complain." He looks me right in the eyes. "But I've been connected to both of your minds on a regular basis for eight years now. And you're not _nearly_ as good at limiting what you broadcast as you think you are."

Cold spreads through my entire body as his implication sinks in. How did it never occur to me that he could hear more than what we deliberately transmit during his therapy sessions? Tris and I used exactly that ability to find the person who did NUSA's broadcasts. And Micky used it to find Tris in Greensburg. Amar is Divergent – of _course_ he can do the same thing.

God, what has he heard?

"That was a creative use of the Dauntless training room, by the way," he quips, confirming the suspicions that are just starting to emerge in my brain. There's no way to hide the deep flush that rises up my cheeks in response.

George doesn't miss it, either. "Um, this sounds like a private conversation." He practically leaps to his feet before starting toward the game room. "I'm going to hang out with the others while you have it."

A smirk plays on the corner of Amar's mouth as he watches his husband leave. "And the therapy room," he continues, shaking his head in mock seriousness. "I have to sit in that chair, you know."

I'm certain that my face has never been redder.

"Just in case you have any doubts, by the way," he adds, drawling a little for emphasis, "Tris thinks that you are _very_ good at that particular skill."

Seriously, there should be another word for this level of red.

"So, no, _she_ has no complaints. But _you_ need to make up your mind. You've been waffling back and forth about kids for over a year now, Four. Exactly what is stopping you?"

Even if I could get words out past the knot of embarrassment clogging my throat, I'm not sure what I would say. For a very long time, I felt I had good reason for delaying – initially, because I was afraid of being like Marcus, and later because I just wanted to enjoy being with Tris. But Amar is right – for the last year, I've found myself still thinking _not yet_, but without a clear reason why.

"I know you're not afraid of turning into your father anymore," Amar says, apparently taking my silence as an invitation to speculate. "I've felt you grow past that. Besides, you know the rest of us would never let you get away with it."

He cocks his head, evaluating me in an almost Erudite manner. "And I'm pretty sure you know you'll love the kid." His lips tug up a bit at the corners. "There was a stretch when _I_ would have doubted that about you, personally, but Tris changed that aspect of you quite thoroughly. There's no way you _couldn't_ love a child you had with her."

The words are oddly comforting, even though I never consciously thought that I wouldn't love a baby of Tris'.

Amar watches me for another moment, and I see his eyes light up in sudden understanding. "You're afraid of losing Tris, aren't you? That she'll die in childbirth, like you thought your mom did, or that she'll love the baby more than she loves you and will leave you." He doesn't add _like your mother really did_, but the unspoken words hang in the air anyway.

The reaction inside me is instant. The part of me that is beyond tired of having my life be messed up by my childhood wants to insist that he's wrong – that I'm not afraid of that at all. But a different answer becomes clear in the way my stomach clenches painfully tight.

"Well," Amar says more quietly now, "let's talk about that, then." He leans forward, meeting my gaze solidly. "You are literally married to the most famous person in this country. On top of that, you're the second-most-famous. I can't even fathom the level of medical care that Tris will receive, but there is no way in hell that they're going to let anything happen to her or the baby if they can _possibly_ prevent it. And given how rare it is for someone to die in childbirth in Erudite, they clearly can prevent a lot."

A smile plays across his mouth. "Besides, we happen to have a doctor living right here in our faction. You saw how much Cara helped Shauna through her _high-risk_ pregnancy. She can certainly manage a normal one with Tris."

He makes a gesture with his hand as if waving away any danger. "Frankly, Tris is much more likely to get killed trying to get Dauntless to give up its serum."

The last part catches my attention more than I'd like, and I swallow as I debate just how dangerous that effort will be. I'm not far into the train of thought before it occurs to me that Tris would actually be _safer_ doing that if she were pregnant. It's one thing for a Dauntless member to go after someone in a fair fight – but to attack a _pregnant_ woman? Very, very few would do that.

A small smile flits across my face with the realization. Amar seems to take it as a signal to continue.

"And you're just plain nuts to think that Tris will stop loving you." He arches an eyebrow at me. "Surely you've learned by now that when you love one person, that makes you _more_ likely to love another. That's certainly been _your_ experience, hasn't it?"

He gives me that challenging look that he's always managed so well, and again I find myself considering his words. I never had friends while I was growing up, during the time I lived with my father. I made some unsuccessful attempts when I was young, and my mother was still with us, but I gave up entirely after I thought she'd died.

That made it difficult to open up, even a little, once I transferred to Dauntless. But Amar helped pull me out of my shell, and gradually I connected to some degree with Zeke and Shauna. Those relationships, in turn, made it easier to imagine being with Tris when I met her.

And the way I felt about her certainly helped my other relationships. I became willing to give my mother another chance, and I joined support – where Kevin became a guiding force in my life. And all of that strengthened my friendships and helped me form new ones.

Amar is right. We don't contain a finite amount of love that needs to be spread among the people we know. We build more of it the more we use.

The side of my mouth lifts as I nod slowly, feeling my lingering doubts dissolve. Change is always a little frightening, but I've seen that it can be a very good thing. It's time to take that chance again.

* * *

I'm sitting on the small couch in our apartment when Tris comes home, looking exhausted and yet exhilarated at the same time. She and Anna must have had a productive day.

"Hi," she murmurs as she leans down to kiss me. I return the greeting, pulling her into my lap before she can sit next to me. I want her close.

She giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck and snuggling against me as my own arms go around her waist. "Glad to see me?" she whispers.

I breathe my response into her hair. "Always."

But it's not quite time for this yet. So, I force myself to focus and add, "Besides, there are a few things we need to talk about."

She draws back enough to meet my gaze, her expression changing from quizzical to serious as she considers that.

"Okay…."

It's suddenly difficult to begin, and I clear my throat as I debate the best starting point. "Peter came by support tonight."

She nods. "I thought he might. Anna asked about the program – she didn't say why, but I suspected it was for him, given his background." She looks lost in thought for a second. "I'm glad he's finally willing to get help."

"He asked me to be his sponsor."

That clearly surprises her, and her eyebrows climb up her forehead as she stares at me. "Wow." Her voice is soft. "That's either really dumb or really dedicated." I chuckle, knowing that she's right – I certainly won't go easy on him.

"I said I'd talk to you about it."

She thinks about that, her mouth flattening as her eyes go distant. "I'm okay with it," she says after a while, "if you are. But I know how he gets to you sometimes – or at least how he used to. Don't agree if he's going to get under your skin."

It's a fair statement. "Do you think he's changed much since Dauntless?" I ask curiously.

She nods slowly. "I haven't been around him a lot since that first year, but he definitely matured even during that time, so yes, I'd say so. He's also…very focused on doing well at anything he decides to do. That's not always good, but in this case, it should be. I doubt he'd join support if he didn't want to make it work."

The thought is encouraging, but it's not the main thing I need to know. "Would you feel safe having him come to our faction in the middle of the night?"

She gives me a pointed look. "I'm not afraid of him, Tobias. I never was, really, and I'm certainly not now. I don't particularly _like_ him, and I'll probably never entirely _trust_ him, but it doesn't bother me to see him." She gives a half-smile. "Besides, Peter has always been motivated by what's best for him. And it certainly wouldn't be in his best interest to hurt his employer's granddaughter, or his sponsor's wife. Or the former president, for that matter. He won't try anything."

I nod a little, reassured but also uncertain how to say the next part. Finally, it just comes out. "You wouldn't worry even if you were pregnant?"

Her brow furrows as she stares at me again. "How likely is that, Tobias?" Her voice is guarded.

Our eyes hold each other's, and I find my voice in the changing colors I see there. "I was thinking it might happen tonight, personally."

Her mouth opens a bit, and her pupils widen, and for a few seconds, she sits there, breathing hard. "Just what did Peter say to you?" she finally asks, her voice strangled.

I can't help chuckling. "I certainly didn't decide that because of _him_, Tris." My fingers shift a little, holding her more tightly. "But Amar raised that concern, and then we had an…interesting conversation. And I realized that I'm ready. If you still are."

My voice is low as I add, "So, take that into consideration when you think about Peter being here."

"I…." She shakes her head to clear it. "They're two separate issues, Tobias. Make your decision about Peter based on whether or not _you_ want to sponsor him. It's not a problem for me." She leans closer, pressing her forehead to mine. "I'm much more interested in the second issue."

Her mouth is only inches from mine as she adds, "Because it's already tonight, you know. And I'm definitely still ready."

A smile works its way onto my face as nervous energy starts to buzz through my body. "So," I whisper against her lips, "are you saying that tonight means _right now_, Tris?"

I feel her grin more than I see it as she breathes her answer. "That is exactly what I'm saying, Tobias."

_**A/N: It hasn't really been intentional, but my chapters seem to be getting longer lately. Hopefully, that's a good thing... Anyway, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this one. The next one will probably be posted in a week, though you never know - I might be able to get it done sooner.**_


	45. Chapter 45: Tris - Baby Shower

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and also to those who reviewed the new one-shot story I posted yesterday ("Intrusion"). Since that story is complete, I don't have a good way of thanking the reviewers other than to do it here. Anyway, if you haven't seen it yet, please check it out.**_

_**I also owe a special thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie, for her help with this chapter. My first version of it was rather dull, and she gave me a suggestion that helped me come up with a much better ending for it. So, thank you, Rosalie!**_

**Chapter 45: Tris – Baby Shower**

Every part of my body seems to be uncomfortable these days. It's impossible to get more than two hours of sleep at a time, between the baby kicking and the way my muscles cramp up whenever I stay in one position for too long.

The other day, in a moment of fuzzy thinking, I made the mistake of saying that I can't wait until the baby is born, so I can get a good night's sleep. I've never heard Shauna laugh so hard.

Tobias has been as supportive as possible, massaging my legs when they cramp up and doing virtually all of the housework so I can rest, but there's only so much he can do. My body is still taking the brunt of bringing our daughter into this world. At least there's only one month left to go….

We've been attending childbirth and child-rearing classes at Erudite, which has certainly been interesting. I'm glad that I've stayed in shape over the years, using our exercise room regularly, but I still feel ridiculous doing some of the stretches they have us practice in our birth preparation class. The worst is the one where we get on our hands and knees and arch our heads up; I can't help but feel like a cow.

Overall, though, I'd say that the breast-feeding class was the most eye-opening. I always assumed that babies just knew how to eat, but apparently a lot of them don't, and there's a whole art to helping them learn. And to using a breast pump, for that matter. I've never seen Tobias turn quite so red as he did during that demonstration. I can't imagine how bad it would have been if they'd used a real person for it instead of a dummy.

Still, the classes were well worth it. We can both change a diaper one-handed now, and we know what to check for, in what order, when a baby cries. We also have a pretty good idea what to expect during the labor process.

That last one makes me wonder, sometimes, just what I've gotten myself into.

Our instructor, Madira, keeps saying that labor won't last forever, no matter how much it feels like it at the time. It's a somewhat reassuring thought, though it would be a lot easier if we knew in advance how long it will take.

I guess I have one advantage – unlike most of the others in our class, I've dealt with some things that were probably not much easier than childbirth. The fights during Dauntless initiation left me unconscious more than once, and Jeanine's experiments were their own kind of torture. Plus, I've been shot, and then there are the injuries that Marcus inflicted, and the ones I suffered in Philadelphia.

I don't mention those comparisons to Tobias. Right now, I suspect he's feeling guilty enough about getting me pregnant in the first place – and causing my present discomfort. I won't add any reminders about other pain he played a role in, particularly when it was almost nine years ago.

It's early afternoon when we return from the final session of our last class. There's a feeling of accomplishment that goes with it – as if we're ready now whenever our daughter is. Of course, we're not, really, since we haven't finished decorating the nursery, but at least the room itself is done. Amar and George did most of the work on that, though Tobias and I helped with the design and some portion of the manual labor. It's the easiest labor I'm likely to face this year.

Tobias releases my hand as we approach the gathering room, letting me go first since it's impossible to walk side-by-side through a doorway these days. I must be more tired than I thought, because I don't even notice the streamers hanging overhead or the balloons mixed in with them or even the people crowded just out of sight as I waddle into the room, heading straight for the couch. It's not until the air is filled with the sound of voices shouting, "Surprise!" that I realize what's happening. I didn't know I could still jump so high.

"Don't _do_ that," I immediately snap in response, holding one hand over my racing heart and the other over my suddenly active baby bump as Tobias places a broad palm on my back to steady me. My eyes roam the room, taking in the crowd of friends and family who are now swarming toward me, laughing.

"I told you she didn't know," Christina all but squeals as she pulls me into a tight hug. She's clearly thrilled that they managed to keep this secret, and I can't blame her for that. Really, it's impressive that our entire faction avoided giving me any hints, particularly since it's now obvious that they were all in on it – even Tobias, judging by the slightly apologetic look he gives me.

"Yeah, yeah, good job," I mutter grudgingly. But I can't stop the grin that starts spreading over my face as the initial shock wears off. It's genuinely nice to see my family and friends all gathered to celebrate our little one's pending arrival.

"Come sit down," Christina urges, tugging me toward the couch, where a seat of honor has been set up. Streamers frame it in the colors of all the factions, with two large red arrows pointing to the spot designated for me. A large sign hangs over those, reading "Mommy" in bold black letters. It's strange to think of that title applying to me.

"Is this my permanent seat now?" I ask with a smile, thinking about how we've all been fighting for the prime spots in this room lately, ever since Uriah and Zeke broke one of the couches with a game-gone-wrong. It's been taking a surprisingly long time to replace it.

"Yes," everyone except Uriah choruses simultaneously in response. Christina smacks her fiancé on the arm, and he belatedly joins in, his expression reflecting some mix of humor and sheepishness. It makes me laugh again as I make an exaggerated show of taking my seat. Tobias sits beside me before anyone else can.

"All right," Shauna calls to the very crowded room, "everyone grab a chair from the dining room or find somewhere else to sit. We're going to play a game."

I watch as they scramble for seats, lugging chairs in and placing them as close to us as possible. It's a large gathering, with our entire faction plus Anna, Caleb, Evelyn, Margaret, her girlfriend Brenda, Kevin, his wife Miriam, their son Michael, Susan, her husband Jeremiah, their daughter Mary, Tori, Bud, and Johanna. I didn't realize this room could hold twenty-four people, but they squeeze together and sit on laps and on the floor, and somehow they manage to fit.

It feels a little like being on a stage, though, with all the dining room chairs gathered in front of me and every face directed at me. Fortunately, I've spoken to enough crowds not to be nervous.

Christina stands up in the gap between my couch and the chairs, holding a set of cards up as Shauna explains what we're doing.

"We've created a deck of cards with baby-related challenges from each of the five original factions. We'll go around the room, and when it's your turn, you'll draw a card, read it aloud, and then do what it says. Some of the challenges are straight-forward, while others are open to interpretation. Have fun with them!"

She grins when Christina offers the deck to her first, and I glimpse black on the back of the card that she draws.

"Give the father-to-be a task that he must obey," she reads, "and a consequence if he doesn't." Smirking, she turns to Tobias. "Change every nighttime diaper for the first week, or else you have to put Lionel to bed for a week instead."

My husband rolls his eyes before saying, "I'll take the diapers." A small cheer erupts from the others before Christina extends the deck to Uriah. I watch as he draws a card with a gray back.

"Suggest a thoughtful name for the baby." He frowns slightly as he debates that, before his face lights up. "Gertrude!" he shouts. At the collective groans and boos, he adds, "Hey, I'd totally name my kid Gertrude. Particularly if it's a boy."

He grins at his fiancé. "Gertrude Pedrad. Tell me that doesn't have a ring to it?"

Christina doesn't bother to respond, instead moving on to Zeke, who draws a red card. He studies it for a long moment before turning his gaze to Shauna and then to Tobias. Evaluating his best friend for a solid five seconds, he finally says, "No, I'm not nearly suicidal enough for this."

Standing, he steps over to my husband and hands him the card. Tobias' eyes flicker to it briefly, and I see the corners of his mouth tug upwards. "Wise choice, Zeke," he states in a low tone before leaning toward me and claiming my lips with his own. It's a short kiss, but an intense one nevertheless, especially since it's in front of practically everyone we know.

When he pulls away, he grins, holding the card up and reading, "Kiss the mother-to-be."

A cheer runs through the room, and I smile back at him despite the slight flush I can feel on my cheeks.

"Aw, I was hoping to get that one," Christina blurts out, her voice as loud as ever. I laugh, but judging by the expressions I see around me, at least half of the group thinks she's serious. Uriah, in particular, stares between us for a long moment, his mouth falling open slightly.

"Damn, that's hot," he mutters. This time, I'm the one who smacks him.

It takes close to an hour for everyone to get a turn, with Miriam having to create a diaper out of streamers and put it on Kevin, Tori making a baby doll out of balloons – which Caleb then had to "deliver," and Amar attempting to identify what flavor of baby food he's eating from an unlabeled jar. It turns out to be cat food.

The final card has Margaret singing a made-up lullaby at the top of her lungs before we declare the game done and dig into the enormous cake that Tori and Bud brought with them. It's delicious, as Dauntless cake always is, and we're all in good moods by the time Tobias and I start opening the presents.

Prior to today, there were items we knew we still needed for the nursery, and we're delighted to receive those. But the Abnegation in me never even _thought_ about the majority of the gifts we're given.

There's an automated swing and a baby carrier and a nursing pillow and two different specialty cans – one for storing dirty cloth diapers and another for used disposable ones. There are more outfits than it seems like the baby could possibly wear before outgrowing them. And then there are the toys. I remember being shocked by the sheer volume in Lionel's room, but by the end of the day, we're well on our way to matching his stockpile.

I have no idea where we'll put it all.

My gaze meets Susan's as I thank her – genuinely – for the handmade blanket she gave us, and I know we both find this enormous load of gifts overwhelming.

It's harder to tell what Tobias thinks. He tilts his head as he spins a mobile that's apparently designed to hang over the crib, watching the trees and stars and colorful fruits on it move in a mesmerizing pattern. I don't know if he's thinking that our child will be far luckier than he was or if he's debating how much of this stuff we'll actually use. This isn't really the time to ask.

The formal part of the celebration appears to be over now, because the room is quickly disintegrating into loud chaos, and Christina and Shauna aren't making any attempt to restore order.

People start moving around, clustering into small groups so they can talk, and I watch them with growing exhaustion. I'm slightly startled when Tori perches on the arm of the couch by me, smiling a little as her eyes move over my distended abdomen.

"You look uncomfortable," she comments.

I nod, suppressing a yawn. "It's almost as bad as Dauntless initiation."

She gives an appreciative chortle. "So, what are you really naming the baby? Other than Gertrude."

"Abigail," I say firmly. It took us a long time to decide, but I'm pleased with our choice.

"It's pretty." She cocks her head at me thoughtfully. "Though I'm a little surprised you didn't go with Natalie."

For a second, I stare at her, feeling vaguely like I've been punched in the gut. It's not that her comment was inappropriate – it's just that it was totally unexpected. I didn't realize she even knew my mother's name. And I'm sure it doesn't help that my reactions are all over the place these days. The doctors assure me that it's from the hormones and that it's perfectly normal, but that doesn't make things feel less intense.

Across from me, Caleb clears his throat, drawing our attention. "Actually," he tells Tori, "I asked her to leave that name for me to use, if I ever have a daughter." His gaze meets mine, and he gives a small, sad smile. I know he still feels guilty for his role in the war on Abnegation, and using our parents' names for his children seems like it might help him, so I had no problem granting his request.

The answer clearly satisfies Tori, and she pats me on the arm lightly. "Well, Abigail is a beautiful name," she reiterates before rising.

She's a step away when I find myself asking, "Did you know my mother?" It never occurred to me before, but it's possible that Mom was still in Dauntless when Tori transferred there – or that they went to school together. They were probably close in age, after all.

Tori pauses, looking back at me thoughtfully. "Just a little," she finally replies. "Enough to know that you're a lot like her – in the ways that matter." She smiles gently – well, as gently as Tori ever does. "You'll be a good mother, Tris."

"Yes, she will," Anna says confidently as she stops next to Tori. Their eyes meet briefly, and they exchange a nod of greeting, before Tori continues on her way and my grandmother comes over to me.

"She's right, you know," Anna tells me softly. "You remind me very much of Natalie sometimes." The words spread a sweet, comfortable warmth through my insides. I would like nothing more than to be as good and loving a mother as mine was.

Anna hesitates, her eyes glistening slightly, before she presses another package into my hands. "This one is for you two to open later, in private." She leans down, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "In the meantime, I need to get going. I'll see you on Wednesday if you're up to it. If not, that's okay, too. We have the bulk of the work done, anyway."

I nod as she turns to my husband, patting him lightly on his shoulder. "And you, Tobias, will be a good father," she adds. "I have complete faith in you." He smiles, his hand finding mine and squeezing hard, and I know that the compliment means a great deal to him. He has always valued Anna's opinion, particularly when it comes to me and my family.

The party disbands slowly after that, with people stopping to say their goodbyes and heading out. Evelyn gives me a lingering hug, teary-eyed as she whispers that she couldn't have asked for a better daughter-in-law, and Margaret reiterates that she wants to baby-sit at least once a month. It's hard to believe that she's now a little older than I was when Tobias and I were married. I wonder how serious she and Brenda are.

Caleb kisses my cheek and shakes Tobias' hand before heading out with Cara. I'm not quite sure where they're going, but they've been spending an increasing amount of time together lately. It wouldn't surprise me if they've been dating and just keeping it quiet in case it doesn't work out.

Finally, three hours after the party started, Zeke is chasing his cake-covered son through the gift boxes while Tobias and most of the rest of our faction lug everything downstairs to our apartment. I make my way slowly after them.

"I'm having them put everything in our office for now," Tobias tells me, slipping into place beside me and taking my arm as I start down the stairs. It's probably a good idea, given how much trouble I've been having with balance lately. "I figure we can bring things into the nursery as we're ready for them."

I nod, feeling exhausted from the long day and not at all wanting to face a pile of items to be sorted.

Tobias gives a wry smile. "Honestly, I don't even know what half that stuff is."

"I don't, either," I admit. "But I guess we have a month to figure it out."

He leads me into our room, clearly realizing that I'm tired enough to want a nap by now, but I stop when I see Anna's present lying on our bed. Tobias presumably put it there, and I can't help the curiosity that rises in me at the sight. There must be a reason she wanted to keep it private.

"Can we open it now?" I ask, feeling oddly excited at the thought of _this_ one, even after all the gifts we were just given. I haven't received many presents in my life that were too special for others to see.

Tobias chuckles at my enthusiasm. "If you want." He sits on the end of the bed, pulling me down beside him and setting the box on my lap. I unwrap it carefully.

A pink and blue book sits inside the box, surrounded by protective tissue. Its cover is made of some soft, squishy material, and black letters on the front state, "Baby Book." I smile a little at the thought of recording details about Abigail as she grows, but at the same time, this doesn't make sense. Why would Anna want us to open this alone?

I get the answer when I gently lift the cover. My lips part, and beside me, I can hear Tobias' breath catch. Handwritten in neat letters is an inscription:

**_To our beautiful daughter, Natalie_**

My fingers tremble as I turn the pages, one at a time, reading what my grandparents wrote about Mom when she was little. It's filled with measurements of her height and weight, and dates and ages – when she first smiled, and sat up, and crawled; when she said her first word, which was "uh-oh"; when she took her first step; and a hundred other firsts I couldn't possibly have known before.

Even better are the handwritten notes, describing her behavior at different ages up through eight years old. They discuss her personality, her likes and dislikes, who her friends were, and how she interacted with her family.

The Abnegation don't record information like this, calling it selfish to dwell on any one person, so there's nothing like this about me or Tobias or Caleb. But _here_ is a record of everything I ever wanted to know about my mother's childhood. Here is something I can look at as Abigail grows, to see if she's like her grandmother. Here is the best gift I could possibly have received today.

Tobias wraps an arm around me and pulls me close, placing a gentle kiss on my temple. "You know," he murmurs softly, "I hope Abigail is a lot like Anna."

A smile makes its way through the tears of joy and love that are threatening to spill down my face. "I'll second that," I whisper.

_**A/N: Reviews are always appreciated! And please check out my "Intrusion" one-shot story. :-)**_


	46. Chapter 46: Tobias - Birth Day

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and/or favorited! I'm excited to say that if you sort all "Divergent" stories by the number of reviews, this story and my "Determinant" one are now both in the top ten. That's amazing to me, and I have all of you to thank for it. You're a truly great group of people, and I appreciate your support so much. Oh, and thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie - you help me out so much!**_

**Chapter 46: Tobias – Birth Day ****(August 15, ten years after they first met; Tris is 26 and Tobias is 28)**

The dream lingers, trying to keep me asleep, as the hand continues to shake my shoulder.

"Tobias."

Some kind of groan emerges from me.

"Tobias, wake up!"

There's an urgency in Tris' voice, and it's enough to finally push through the remaining layer of sleep that's fogging my brain.

"Hhmmuh?" I mumble, sitting up and looking at my wife in the low light. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm in labor."

The words instantly dispel all grogginess. Turning to my nightstand, I flip on the lamp, blinking in the sudden brightness as I face Tris again. "Are you having contractions?"

She nods, biting her lip. It's so rare to see her afraid, but in this moment I can see the nerves threatening to strangle her. Abigail's due date is in two days, so we knew that Tris could go into labor at any time, but just because we've been expecting it doesn't mean it's not a frightening prospect – for both of us. If I'm honest, I'm just as worried as she looks, but she needs me to be strong right now, so I'm careful not to show it.

"Okay," I say steadily, "let's time them." Retrieving my watch, I get the timer ready and add, "Tell me when the next one starts."

She gives another nod, and I take her hand with my free one, lacing our fingers together. My thumb rubs gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to soothe her – and maybe myself, too.

"Now," she gasps, her breathing quick as she stares at her distended abdomen. My eyes follow her gaze as I click the timer on, and I watch, mesmerized by the way her muscles tighten and hold, squeezing our daughter downward.

I see it end at the same time Tris indicates, and I make a mental note of the duration, though I keep the timer running. Part of me relaxes once five minutes have passed. At most, she's in early labor, so there's no need to rush her to the hospital yet.

"The next one started," she says shortly after the seven-minute point, and I stop the timer, holding the watch up so Tris can see it. "Dr. Martinez said to go in when they're four minutes apart," I remind her, "so let's just time a few more for now to see if they're consistent."

"Okay," she whispers, still looking a bit anxious. This is going to be a long day.

By the time we confirm that she's in early labor, and that she has no alarming symptoms, it's six o'clock in the morning. "Do you want to get some more sleep?" I ask, massaging her lower back the way I know she likes.

She shakes her head. "No. I'm too awake."

"Okay, then do you want to walk around? If you're uncomfortable, that might help."

"I know," she answers a bit irritably. "I took the same classes you did, Tobias." I don't respond, and after a second, she adds, "Sorry. I'm just nervous."

"It's okay." Leaning closer to her, I run my nose along her jaw before kissing just behind her ear. "Tell you what," I whisper, "you can yell at me all you want today. Bringing our baby into the world entitles you to that."

A small smile touches her mouth, and for the first time since she woke me up, she seems almost calm. "Let's go for a walk," she says.

* * *

We walk, and talk, and sleep, and time contractions, and deal with our eager faction-mates until they begin trickling off to work. I'm grateful when Cara arranges to take the day off, just in case Tris needs her. Zeke is home today, too, since he's been working a different schedule lately. But the rest of them wish us luck and reluctantly head out. It's Monday, so even Amar needs to go to his job today.

Oddly, Tris gets calmer the more time passes, even though the contractions are clearly getting stronger and more frequent. I guess it's sunk in that this is really happening, and Tris has always been good at facing difficult situations once she accepts them.

When the contractions are consistently four minutes apart, we head toward the hospital – walking, since it's not as hot today as it has been and since we'll only end up walking more once we get there anyway. Cara comes with us, and Zeke goes ahead, taking our supplies with him and offering to alert the doctor that we're on the way. We have to stop frequently, since it's now difficult for Tris to move during her contractions, but we get there without a problem.

Tris' body tenses when we enter the Erudite lobby, and it takes me a second to realize that it's not another contraction. She's reacting to the building, with all its horrible memories, and I certainly can't blame her. For what feels like the millionth time, I wish there was another hospital that was as good as this one. It will never be easy for either of us to spend time here.

But we follow the route that we've used for every doctor's appointment, avoiding the section where we were held prisoner – and the large portion of the building that, for all practical purposes, looks identical to it. I haven't set foot in the part where we were actually imprisoned since we rescued Caleb years ago, but the floor below it looks similar enough to have triggered Tris' one and only panic attack the day she found Dave's letter. I certainly won't take her through _there_ again.

Another contraction starts right as we enter the maternity ward, and a middle-aged nurse with a gentle smile waits patiently until it's over before leading us into a room.

"You'll be staying here through the whole process," she explains, "until you're discharged." She gestures to the bed that occupies the center of the room. "That adjusts to a variety of positions, to help you stay comfortable during labor, and then it can be converted into any of the standard delivery configurations."

She goes into an Erudite spiel about the bed's settings while I look around at where we'll be spending much of the next few days. It's a pleasant enough space, with simple furniture and soothing pale blue walls. A few pieces of artwork decorate it, showing beautiful landscapes and sunsets – images clearly intended to relax women in labor, and their nervous partners. I wonder how much anyone really notices them.

Cara goes to get ice chips for Tris to suck on, while the nurse bustles about, getting a hospital gown out for Tris to wear and ensuring that there are adequate blankets on the bed. She rattles off a list of reminders and instructions that is mind-bogglingly long, but fortunately it doesn't seem to be anything that we didn't already learn in class, so I just nod along to her reassuring voice.

"Dr. Martinez will be here soon," she tells us as she heads out, closing the door behind her to give us privacy.

It turns out to be a process for Tris to change into the gown, and it takes both of us and three attempts to get it right. We've barely finished, and I'm helping Tris into bed, when Dr. Martinez knocks lightly on the door and enters without waiting for an answer.

"Abigail didn't want to wait the extra two days, huh?" she quips as she looks up from her chart. At Tris' slightly nervous head shake, she adds, "Well, you're nicely within the safe delivery range, so hop on up, and we'll see how everything looks down there."

"_Hop_?" Tris asks incredulously, still struggling to get her very-pregnant body onto the mattress. "Have you actually _seen_ a pregnant woman before?"

Dr. Martinez just chuckles before helping Tris the rest of the way onto the bed and then casually placing her feet into the stirrups that I didn't notice earlier. I look away automatically when she begins the examination, even though there's certainly nothing there that I haven't seen before. It will probably always seem strange to me how easily doctors peer at their patients' most private parts.

They're both still in that position when the door opens.

"Hey, Four," Zeke says, stepping in without so much as a knock. "I'm going to…." He gets cut off by my body blocking his view and my hands shoving him roughly out the door. I follow him into the hallway.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snarl at him, unduly irritated by his thoughtlessness. "The doctor's in the middle of an _examination_."

It doesn't help when Zeke _smirks_ in response. "Aw, that's so cute," he comments. "You still think she's going to have anything resembling privacy through this process." He shakes his head. "Trust me, by the end of the day, you're going to be so used to anyone and their brother checking on her, you won't even care anymore. I lost count of how many doctors and nurses and assistants and medical students helped with Shauna."

The words are disconcerting. Tris has seen other doctors at times through the pregnancy, but Dr. Martinez has been her primary care provider. I had assumed that it would just be her handling the delivery, but now I have to wonder if that's realistic. We never talked about that aspect of the birth in our classes, but it does seem likely that there will be at least one assistant.

My expression must show how distasteful I find the whole idea, because Zeke quickly tries to back-peddle. "Maybe that was just because Shauna's pregnancy was high-risk," he says in an attempt at a reassuring tone. It's not very convincing. "Don't stress about it, man."

Patting me on the shoulder somewhat lamely, he adds, "It will all be fine, and I'll knock before entering next time, okay?"

"Yeah," I mutter, but the damage is done. I'm clearly going to have to share my wife with more people than I'd like today.

"Anyway," he adds, "I'm going to the faction to leave the others a note with Tris' room number, and to get some lunch. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

I start to shake my head, too focused on my wife to think about anything else, but my stomach growls on its own at the mention of food, and Zeke grins. "I'll bring you a couple of sandwiches."

* * *

The day passes slowly, spent counting minutes and centimeters and percentages. Zeke and Cara walk the long corridors with us, trying to cheer Tris up and distract her, but after the way I shoved Zeke out of the room earlier, neither of them ventures near it when Tris and I go there for her frequent examinations.

She's dilating and effacing nicely, we're told, but as the hours pass, it's obvious that her level of pain is increasing steadily. Eventually, it reaches the point where she stops trying to walk, instead curling up on the bed, clenching my hand hard with every contraction.

Zeke and Cara retreat to the waiting room then, and I focus all of my attention on my wife. I help as much as I can, letting her crush my fingers without complaint and massaging her back and reminding her how to breathe, but it all feels utterly inadequate. This burden rests squarely on her, and I _hate_ seeing her this miserable.

"I think you should get an epidural," I finally suggest after a particularly strong contraction. I no longer care about her preferred plan of getting through this without medication.

"No," she pants, her breathing shaky. "I can still manage."

"For now, yes." I try to keep my tone reasonable. "But you still have the hardest part to go. And if you're going to get one then, you might as well do it now. There's no need to make this more difficult than it has to be."

"Yeah, well, I've been through plenty of difficulty, Tobias," she mutters, pressing her hands on her abdomen and trying to even out her breathing. "And plenty of pain, too, in case you've forgotten."

The words make my entire body go rigid, and for a long moment, I just stand there with no idea how to respond. I know too well what injuries she's suffered in the past – and which of those _I_ inflicted. She probably didn't mean to remind me of that, but her slip certainly doesn't make me feel better about any of this.

It may be just as well that the next contraction starts. Tris groans, and I lean closer, rubbing her back with my free hand as I remind her how to breathe. It seems to take forever to get through this one.

She pants when it finally ends, looking thoroughly exhausted but somehow still going.

My whisper escapes before I can stop it. "Was it this bad when I broke your ribs?"

Her eyes snap to mine, and I can tell she realizes now what she just admitted. "Tobias," she says pleadingly, "don't go there. This is _not_ the same thing."

It's an answer in itself, and it shouldn't surprise me. Realistically, that experience was probably even _worse_ than today. She was a prisoner, in pain, expecting to die shortly. And it was because of me.

The guilt is overwhelming.

"Tobias," she repeats, waiting until I reluctantly meet her gaze again. "We need to stay focused on this. Not…on the distant past. Okay?"

It's difficult to accept that reality, but I know she's right. This isn't a time for me to wallow in old mistakes.

I nod tersely, trying to frame my mind back around our previous discussion. "An epidural won't hurt Abigail," I finally say.

"I know," Tris responds wearily, "but I'm not at that point, at least not yet." A weak smile lifts the corners of her mouth. "I can still deal with the pain, and I want to keep going this way if I can. I need you to support me in that."

A sigh comes out of me as I accept her decision. I don't know how to continue watching her like this, but if my wife is choosing to be strong and brave, then I will find a way to do that, too. Because no matter what, I will _always_ be there when Tris needs me.

* * *

It's after six o'clock in the evening when Dr. Martinez says that it's time to start pushing. Tris is utterly worn out by now, but she looks relieved at the news despite the extra work it brings. She clearly wants to get this over with.

Two assistants come in with the nurse, Peggy, who's been attending to Tris since we got here, and I watch them move around the room, getting everything ready. It's difficult not to glare at the male assistant, particularly when he begins adjusting the bed to the birthing position – a task that necessarily involves having his head near parts of Tris that no man except _me_ should see.

But the reality is that Zeke was right. More than a half-dozen professionals have traipsed into the room over the course of the day, needing to examine Tris for one reason or another, and I've had to swallow my discomfort with that fact.

So, I do my best to ignore the assistant as he angles the bed up and removes the bottom section. Peggy then helps Tris shift downwards, placing her into almost a crouching position. I remember them talking about this in class – that it's the easiest and most natural position for giving birth, but that sometimes they can't use it if pain medication was administered. Maybe it will make the agony that Tris has dealt with worthwhile.

"All right, Tris," Dr. Martinez says encouragingly, "you're going to push when I tell you to, and rest in between. Okay?"

A strange desire to laugh goes through me at the idea of Tris letting anyone tell her what to do, but I suppress the urge when she nods wearily. This day has definitely taken a toll on her.

"You remember what they said in your class about how to push, right?" the doctor adds as she wheels a low stool over and positions herself on it between Tris' legs.

"Yes," my wife answers, her voice strained.

"Good." The doctor pats Tris' leg reassuringly while keeping her eyes focused on her patient's lower region. She's clearly watching for some signal on when to begin, and I wonder exactly what it is, but I decide not to ask. Sometimes, more information is not helpful.

Whatever it is, she sees it soon enough. Holding her hand up where Tris can see it, she says, "Okay, push on three." She matches her fingers to her verbal count. "One. Two. Three."

Tris obeys, putting every ounce of energy she has left into the effort, and for a split second, I somehow think that one push will be enough. It's not, of course, nor are a dozen more. Eventually, we settle into a routine of Dr. Martinez counting the time between pushes and the length of each push, and Tris squeezing my left hand into non-existence as she works her exhausted body more and more.

I'm pretty sure that my wedding band has become permanently embedded in my bones by the half-hour point. But the effect on Tris is far greater.

"I can't do this," she finally moans, shaking her head as her entire body sags against the bed. "I can't push anymore." There's raw desperation in her eyes as they meet mine. "I want a c‑section."

That's an impossible statement to answer, since I doubt it's really an option at this point – with Abigail already in the birth canal. "Umm…" I start, trying to figure out how to get my wife what she needs to continue. Fortunately, Dr. Martinez responds before I have to.

"Tris, I know this is incredibly hard." She's clearly seen this situation many times before, because she doesn't sound at all surprised. Instead, she radiates calm and reassurance. "It's probably the hardest thing you'll ever have to do. But you can absolutely do it. You're very close. Just a few more pushes should be enough."

But Tris seems to be past that point. She shakes her head again, scrunching her eyes shut. "Noooo," she answers in a long, groaning snarl that doesn't even sound human. "I'm _done_."

The nurse, Peggy, tries to step in next, taking Tris' free hand and spouting some sappy cliché about how Tris can do this if she just _thinks_ she can. I can't help staring at her as she continues, thinking that she must have grown up in Amity to have come up with _this_ as the right pep talk for a woman in labor.

Tris' response is by far the rudest thing I've ever heard her say.

It's difficult to bite back a laugh as Peggy steps away, looking more than a little affronted, but my humor disappears when her gaze finds mine. Her expression is clear – Tris isn't listening to them, so _I_ need to find a way to deal with this.

Nodding, I wrench my hand free from Tris' vice grip and instead take hold of her shoulders. She looks at me as I lean over her, making firm eye contact.

"Tris, you are the strongest and bravest person I know." My voice is deep and solid. "If _anyone_ can do this, it's you. And since women have been doing this since the dawn of time, _you certainly can_." She stares at me, her expression mutinous, but I fix my face into its instructor mold and glare right back, challenging her. "And you _will_, because you are _not_ someone who gives up."

For just a second, she seems like she's going to refuse, but then I see the fire rise behind her eyes in answer to my challenge. "Fine," she snaps. "But you tell your damned kid to get out of me. Now!"

A smile crosses my face as I shift one hand to her abdomen. "Abigail," I say in my most commanding tone, "get out of your mother this instant."

It doesn't work, not surprisingly, but it's enough to make Tris laugh for the first time in hours. And it only takes four more pushes after that before our daughter finally emerges. It seems like an appropriate number.

I'm not sure which I notice more in that moment – the relieved, exhausted, yet exhilarated expression on my wife's face, or the red and pink form that slides out into the doctor's steady hands. But the second that Abigail starts to cry, there's no question where Tris and I are both focused.

_We have a daughter._

Dr. Martinez stands, stepping to Tris' side so she can lay the baby on her stomach, and we stare, utterly captivated by the sight as our hands reach automatically to steady our child. She is so small, with her ten tiny fingers clenched into fists and her ten miniscule toes spreading out as she kicks the air.

Her eyes are open, and I find myself gazing into the same deep blue color that I spent my childhood fearing. But the comparison disappears instantly, as I lose myself in the most beautiful little face I have ever seen. She has Tris' ears and cheekbones, and full lips that look like a combination of ours, and an itty bitty nose, and a tuft of dark hair that she clearly gets from me. And she is _gorgeous_.

Despite all the anticipation, and the classes, and the sessions spent talking with Kevin, nothing in my life has prepared me for the effect of _this_ – of seeing Abigail for the first time. My entire chest constricts with the flood of love that goes through me, painfully strong. It's totally different from the way I love Tris, though it's just as powerful. And it's combined with an overpowering need to take care of this tiny being – to always, _always_ be there for her.

"She's perfect," I manage to whisper past the lump in my throat. Tris' free hand finds mine, squeezing, and I meet her teary gaze with more awe than I've ever felt. She brought this life into existence. Our daughter. "Absolutely perfect."

"Totally worth it," Tris murmurs back, and I can't help the low chuckle that emerges from my throat. She's unambiguously right. The two of them together – _my family_ – this is worth _everything_.

* * *

**_A/N: To answer some questions..._**

**_1\. I'm going to be posting a timeline on my Profile page soon, for those who have been asking about how old the characters are at various points in the story. I'm also going to start including the time reference at the top of each chapter, like I did with this one. Hopefully, that will make life easier._**

**_2\. For those who have been asking about the M-rated fics I mentioned I might write, I have created an account for them. It's "Windchimed M-stories" and you can find a link to the account on the Favorite Authors tab on my Profile page. There aren't any stories posted under that account yet, but I think I'll be posting one soon. If you want to be notified when that happens, please follow that account, too._**

**_3\. For those asking about Peter, we do see him again before the end of the story, but not as Tobias' sponsee. Tobias chose not to sponsor him but instead asked Kevin to do that. The reason is that Peter is still a trigger for Tobias, and it's really not a good idea to sponsor someone who triggers violent reactions in you. And Tobias knows that Kevin will do an excellent job and will help Peter at least as well as he could have. _**

**_Anyway, sorry about the long author's note. If you're still reading, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Thanks!_**


	47. Chapter 47: Anna - New Beginnings

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! This is a short chapter, but hopefully a worthwhile one. **_

**Chapter 47: Anna – New Beginnings** **(later the same day that Abigail is born, August 15, ten years after Tris and Tobias first met; Tris is 26 and Tobias is 28)**

We have been in the waiting room for a very long time when Tobias finally comes in. He looks exhausted, and yet more exhilarated than I have ever seen him. Smiling widely, he announces to the crowded room that Abigail was born healthy and perfect at five pounds, fourteen ounces.

A collective cheer goes through the room, which is packed with the entire Kaizen faction and a number of their friends, as well as all of their remaining relatives.

"Tris did it without painkillers," he adds, shaking his head a little in obvious awe. I raise my eyebrows, and judging by the others' expressions, I'm not the only one surprised by the statement.

"Yeah, _I'm_ not doing that," Christina tells Uriah firmly. "Just so you know, when the time comes." Her fiancé chuckles.

"I went with the epidural," I freely admit. It's been some forty-five years since then, but I'm sure that the pain of childbirth hasn't changed during those decades. Still, it shouldn't surprise me that Tris managed a feat I couldn't – my granddaughter truly has amazing personal strength.

"I got one, too," Shauna says with a small laugh, "and I'm paralyzed through part of that area." As the others look at her, she shrugs. "The top part still has full feeling, and that's where the contractions occur."

"_Anyway_," Caleb states loudly, clearly uncomfortable with this subject, "when can we see them?"

"Now," Tobias answers, though he holds his hands up as if he's anticipating a mad rush towards the door. "But only a few people at a time." His gaze moves around the room before he says, "Mom, Anna, and Caleb, you're first." I can't help the smile that rises on my face at the privilege. It means so much to have family again, after close to two decades of being just me.

Tris is sitting up in the hospital bed when we enter the room, looking even more drained than her husband but wearing the same expression of joy. She smiles at us before turning her gaze to the reason we're all here. Cradled in her arms is the bundle of blankets that contains my great-granddaughter.

We gather around, each of us looking at the other two, silently offering them the opportunity to hold the baby first. And abruptly I realize that every single person in this room spent years in Abnegation. It draws a soft chuckle out of me, but we'll never get anything done if we keep waiting for each other.

"Evelyn," I say, gesturing her forward respectfully, "I believe the grandmother should have first priority."

She looks more than a little surprised, and honored – an expression that makes me all the gladder to have given her this chance. I know that she has struggled to develop a relationship with her children, after not being there for them when they were younger, and I suspect that she will never feel like she's fully part of the family. I can't remedy that for her, but I can at least do this.

She's clearly nervous as she steps closer, her gaze fixed on her grandchild. "She has your eyes," she whispers, glancing quickly at Tobias as if to confirm it, and he smiles just a little as he nods. "And your hair." Her fingers brush lightly over it.

"You can hold her if you'd like," Tris says gently, extending her arms, and Evelyn carefully takes Abigail, cradling the infant against her chest as she stares at her.

"Oh, she's beautiful." The admission is the softest I've ever heard Evelyn speak, and I watch as her eyes fill with tears – whether of joy or of sorrow at past wrongs, I don't know.

In this moment, it feels as if I'm invading her privacy, so I nod at Tobias, gesturing him toward his mother with my head. He takes the hint, leading Evelyn to the side of the room where they talk quietly together as she continues to hold the baby.

I turn away from them, focusing instead on Tris and pulling Caleb with me.

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

She gives a small laugh. "Like a baby just came out of me." Her gaze runs over her husband and daughter before returning to me. "But incredible, too. It's…indescribable, really." Our eyes meet for a long moment in a silent acknowledgement of the first emotions of motherhood. That is a feeling I will never forget, no matter how many years pass.

Caleb, on the other hand, seems somewhat lost. "Why did you go without painkillers?" he asks, sounding more like his Erudite side than a concerned brother.

Tris shrugs, looking slightly uncomfortable. "It was something I could handle, so I did." The answer is a bit clipped, but then she bites her lip, and I know that there's more to it. Instinctively, I run a hand lightly up and down her arm, comforting her as I used to do with Natalie.

Her gaze turns to her brother for a second before dropping to the blanket, and her voice is very quiet as she adds, "It made me feel closer to Mom. I think it's probably what she did with us."

Caleb's breath catches, and he nods quickly, biting his own lip. I barely notice that gesture anymore, after spending so much time in the UCA. Virtually everyone picked up the habit from watching Tris in Tobias' broadcast. But I do notice it in this moment, along with the grief and guilt that fill my grandson's face.

I'm about to reach for him when Tris does it instead, her hand closing on his and pulling him toward her. They embrace tightly, and as I have been so many times over the years, I am incredibly glad that they reconciled after Caleb's betrayal. They're the only piece of childhood that either of them has left, and they need each other.

It's a bit of a surprise when they each extend a hand toward me, suddenly pulling me into their hug, but I don't hesitate to join. They are my family – my second chance at one after I lost their mother and my son and my husband. And today, as I hold my grandchildren close, knowing that my grandson-in-law is nearby and that my great-granddaughter will be in my arms shortly, too, I feel as complete as I think I ever will.

* * *

Caleb and I take Abigail to the side of the room when it's our turn to hold her, giving Evelyn a chance to talk with Tris and Tobias.

It has been more than four decades since I held a newborn this way – cradling her close and studying her tiny face for features from the people I love. The last time was when Natalie was born, since "faction before blood" kept me from seeing Caleb or Tris this way.

The experience makes my chest constrict more than is probably healthy at my age, but it feels absolutely wonderful. My great-granddaughter is _perfect_.

When I finally get my fill, at least for now, I shift her gently into Caleb's arms. He looks somewhat petrified, his posture stiff and his eyes wide, but he takes her anyway.

"Relax your arms," I tell him, pushing them down and into the right place. "She won't be comfortable on a pair of logs."

"I don't want to hurt her," he says nervously. Chuckling, I pat him on the back and reassure him that he won't, and then I give him a moment to absorb the reality of holding his niece.

"She has Tris' ears," he whispers in awe, glancing quickly up at me the way Evelyn did with Tobias earlier. "Mom's ears." I nod.

"She didn't exist – at all – a year ago. She literally didn't exist. And now she does, and she has Mom's ears." He shakes his head as if struggling with the concept. "She has a piece of both of my parents."

He cradles her closer, still staring at her, utterly enthralled. His voice catches when he adds, "She never would have existed if Jeanine had succeeded." Just like that, the guilt that was in his eyes ten minutes ago is back.

"Caleb, don't go there," I tell him softly, but firmly. "You hurt Tris because you were brainwashed, not because you wanted to. And you managed to fight back – strongly enough to save her life. Abigail is here _because_ of you, not _despite_ you."

He nods slowly, though it's hard to say if he entirely believes it. He may never, really, the same way I doubt Tobias will ever fully forgive himself for breaking Tris' ribs. The irony is that they're both better men for the lessons they learned from those mistakes.

So, I just pat his back gently, letting him rock his niece back and forth as he comes to terms with his past, and with the role it plays in this new life. Sometimes, all we can do for each other is to be there, and I will always try to do that for my family.

* * *

_**A/N: A couple of notes:**_

_**1\. I have posted my first M-rated fic, under the account name "Windchimed M-Stories" (you can find a link to it on the Favorite Authors tab on my Profile page. It's another one-off story inspired by Milner's "The First Time" fic, so it's not the "Prior Rings" chapters I know most of you are waiting for, but hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. If you're old enough to read M stuff, please check it out.**_

_**2\. I have posted a timeline for "Divergent," "Insurgent," "Determinant," and "Prior Rings" on my Profile page. If you want more details about the timing of different events, it's all there. :-)**_

_**Anyway, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Thanks!**_


	48. Ch 48: Tobias - Uriah's Bachelor Party

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! This is another short chapter, I'm afraid, but that's just where the story is right now.**_

**Chapter 48: Tobias – Uriah's Bachelor Party**

**(One month after Abigail's birth; Tris is 26 and Tobias is 28)**

Maybe I should quit my job. I've been putting in less than three days a week in the month since Abigail was born, but it's still more time away from my family than I want. Even being in our office, right down the hall from home, seems like a stretch – particularly at times like this, when I'm stuck catching up on crucial paperwork on a Saturday morning.

It doesn't help that Tris and I will both be going out tonight, separately, for Christina's and Uriah's parties. I feel like I should be spending every bit of available time with my wife and daughter before then.

So, I don't exactly object when Tris brings Abigail in, smirking slyly as she says, "I think your daughter really wants some Daddy time." I smile as she plops the infant in my lap, setting my papers aside so I can hold her.

The scent hits me right as Tris high-tails it out the door.

"I have ways of getting revenge!" I yell after her, but her laugh is the only answer I receive.

"My goodness, you are one _smelly_ baby," I tell my daughter, exaggerating my expression as I meet her eyes. She hasn't learned to laugh yet, but she does give me a small smile, as if to reward my efforts. It's enough to thoroughly win me over.

"Stinky, stinky, stinky," I continue as I push myself up from the chair, holding Abigail in front of me with outstretched arms.

"But I bet it's still better than Lionel's," I call loudly as I pass through our living room, knowing that Tris is probably hiding in our bedroom, still laughing at me. "Because you save ones _that_ bad for _Mommy_, don't you?"

Making my way into the nursery, I stand Abigail on the changing table, holding her carefully upright while I look at her. "Are you done? Because I'm not falling for that again." The little smile returns, and I grin back as I continue. "Fill it all up at once, and Daddy changes it all at once. That's our deal, right?"

She's not making any noises from down there, and she isn't contorting her face from gas, so I conclude she probably really is done, and I lay her on the table. The actual diaper change is quick from there – I've gotten far more used to these than I would have imagined a month ago. But complaining about it is considerably more fun than I expected, too.

I'm not the least bit surprised when Tris slips into the room the moment I've fastened the new diaper in place. "On the bright side," she says, still smirking at me, "Anna will probably get stuck with the next one."

"That she will," I agree, since Anna will be babysitting tonight while Tris and I are both out.

"Are you nervous about leaving her?" I ask as Tris picks Abigail up, following me into the bathroom so I can wash my hands.

"A little." She bites her lip as she gazes at our daughter. "It'll be the first time we've both been away from her."

It's an understandable feeling. Objectively, we both know that Anna is more than qualified to watch Abigail, and we've set everything up to make this work, but it's still a struggle to think about walking out that door.

"Why'd they have to schedule both parties at once, anyway?" I grumble, drying my hands and reaching for the baby again.

Tris sighs. "It's what Christina and Uriah wanted." She doesn't add that this day is about them, not us, so we need to suck up our discomfort and be there for our friends. It's true, though. As Christina's maid of honor, Tris can't exactly skip the bachelorette party, even if she has no interest whatsoever in going to a spa. And Zeke would kill me if I missed Uriah's big night. We have to be there.

"Do you need to finish that paperwork?" Tris asks, her tone clearly hoping that I can spend time with them instead.

"Unfortunately, yes." My daughter reaches up with her tiny hand and grabs at my nose, and I grin at her. "But maybe I can wait until her nap."

* * *

The bachelor party starts with a modified version of Capture the Flag – the first time I've ever played it during daylight hours. Zeke takes us to a part of the city that's still abandoned and establishes two territories, one for each team, telling us that we have fifteen minutes to plan before either side can start attacking.

It quickly becomes obvious that the game has less appeal than it used to. It's difficult to have fun developing tactics and preparing to take out the enemy after having done those things in real life. And it doesn't help that my mind keeps drifting to Tris and Abigail. It's been less than an hour, but I can't help missing them. They're the center of my life.

Still, I do my best to relax and treat this as a fun day, helping Uriah thoroughly trounce his brother's team before we head back to the faction temporarily to clean up. Well, for the others to clean up…. I seem to be the only one with no paint on me.

Abigail is awake, so I spend fifteen minutes playing with her before Anna prods me to change into the nicer clothes that Zeke insisted we wear for the rest of the party. It's even more difficult to leave this time around, but I push myself forward, not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved when my daughter doesn't cry at my departure. Anna clearly has her well entertained.

My feelings are less ambiguous when Zeke leads us to Uriah's favorite club, winding us through the crowd to the private room he reserved in the back. I don't mind the club itself, but I strongly suspect that he's hired a stripper, and I still have no interest in seeing that.

As the evening winds along, though, I start to wonder if maybe my prediction was wrong. We have dinner with Uriah's huge throng of friends, and then we sit around as everyone toasts the groom, telling hilarious stories about the antics of the Pedrad brothers. It's actually quite fun.

It's not until ten o'clock that I'm proven right after all. There's an enormous cheer as two women abruptly appear in front of Uriah, having been smuggled quietly through the crowded room. Music starts, and the other men begin stomping raucously in time to it, but I don't. Instead, I start pushing my way through them to the door. I don't entirely know why I'm so stubborn about this issue, but it honestly turns my stomach to think about watching someone other than Tris.

It seems to take forever to navigate out of the room, past the dance floor and the press of people gathered around it, until I reach the relatively quiet tables on the other side of the bar. My eyes roam the space, looking for a place to sit, when they stop on a young woman who's sitting at a small table, alone. Her face is turned away, and I can't see her clothing well enough from this angle to recognize it, but there's no mistaking the dirty blond hair that cascades down her shoulders – or the magnetic attraction that draws me to her. Every part of me knows Tris when I see her.

I shouldn't be surprised that Christina's party came here after the spa, since it's her favorite place to go with Uriah. Nevertheless, it's an unexpected pleasure to be able to join my wife right now.

"Is this seat free?" I ask in my most casual tone as I pull out the chair next to her.

"Careful," she answers levelly, her gaze still focused on whatever she's watching across the room. "My husband is big and strong and tends to be jealous." She keeps her face straight as she adds, "So make sure he doesn't see you."

I chuckle as I slide into the chair. "Where's the rest of the party?"

Tris looks a bit sour as she points to one of the other private rooms. "Shauna arranged some entertainment."

"Ah." It's not hard to figure out what that means. Christina is clearly watching a stripper, too.

"And they're all _loud_ when they're drunk," Tris adds. "You should have heard the things they were calling to him as I left."

The thought sends a small shiver of revulsion through me. "I'm glad I missed it."

Tris nods before taking a sip of the drink in front of her – which appears to be water, presumably since she's nursing. Her expression is difficult to decipher as she says, "I saw the two women Zeke brought in. They're certainly pretty." She gives a bitter laugh. "I imagine Uriah is having as much fun as Christina."

"Probably." My shoulder lifts. "It's definitely not my thing, but at least they're equally into it."

Tris nods again, staring at the table. There's something vulnerable about her right now.

"I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd stayed to watch them," she says softly, the words barely audible over the background noise. "Since I'm not recovered enough yet for…well, you know." She swallows. "And since I'm…fat and tired and certainly not exciting."

The statement utterly floors me, and for a long moment, I have no idea where this came from. But then it hits me. She just finished spending hours in a spa, surrounded by women who undoubtedly didn't give birth a month ago. And now she's in a club, watching the type of people I used to see in Dauntless all the time – made up, dressed up, and flashing skin as they try to look their very best. On top of that, she watched two strippers walk into the room where I was. _Of course_ she's feeling insecure about the fifteen pounds she still has left from her pregnancy.

"You are _not_ fat," I all but snarl, suddenly angry with our friends for their choice of today's activities. "You spent nine months growing _our child_. It takes longer than a month to lose that."

Hooking my fingers behind her elbow, I pull her across the space between us and into my lap, holding her close as I add, "And even if some of it stays, so what?" I kiss the back of her jaw, just by her ear. "You _always_ look good, Tris."

She's silent for a few seconds, her fingers moving lightly in circles on my chest as she absorbs that. "It's just…." She sighs. "You look as good as the guy Shauna brought in, and I definitely don't look like…them."

I can't help the laugh that comes out of me. "Tris, that's a good thing." She narrows her eyes at me, but I just shrug. "Do you know how many women like that I turned down in Dauntless? They're not what I want. You are. Don't let a bad day make you doubt yourself."

That draws a partial smile out of her, and she nods slowly as she leans into me, resting her head against my neck. "It was a really rough day," she admits. "I was _not_ a fan of the spa. And this place hasn't exactly been great, either." She sighs. "And I don't like being away from Abigail."

My grip tightens a little. "Me, either. I thought about you two all day."

She manages a soft chuckle. "Does that make us pathetic?"

"No." The corners of my mouth lift. "I think it just makes us new parents." Shifting her a bit so I can see her face, I ask, "Do you want to go home?"

She hesitates, obviously torn, but then she shakes her head. "No. This is our first night out since Abigail was born, and I hate how it went. I'd like to…redeem it somehow."

I nod, looking back toward the private rooms where virtually all of our friends are, and then around the rest of the club. "Tell you what," I murmur, "let's dance."

She raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Do you remember how?"

"Some." I shrug. "I remember what we learned for our wedding. And we may as well practice that for Uriah and Christina's wedding, since it's only a week away."

Smiling, I swing her legs to the side so she half-falls out of my lap before regaining her balance and standing. I rise to my full height next to her, extending my hand.

"Come on. I want to dance with my beautiful wife."

She shakes her head a bit, but she smiles, too, as she takes my hand. "Sometimes," she mutters, "I think you need glasses."

"My vision is perfect," I state firmly. "You just have _terrible_ taste in women."

Her laugh is deeper this time – and more genuine. And then she stands on tiptoe, giving me a light kiss on the lips. "I love you, Tobias."

"I love you, too, Tris. I always have, and I always will."

As I lead her toward the dance floor, I lean down so she can hear me over the increasing noise. "Because _I_, you see, have excellent taste in women."

* * *

_**A few notes:**_

_**1\. Thank you so much to the guest who left a nice, long, meaningful review for every single chapter of "Determinant" recently! It always means so much to me when people do that, and since I have no direct way of contacting you, I hope you see this. Also, in answer to your last review, I don't think that people read reviews on finished stories much, unless they're trying to decide if they want to read the story, so I doubt anyone saw the message you were directing to them. Thanks for trying, though - I appreciate the effort!**_

_**2\. In answer to a guest's question, I write from a mixture of personal experiences, family members'/friends' experiences, classes I've taken, research, and just plain making things up. The characters in this story aren't based on specific real people.**_

_**3\. For those looking for fanfiction recommendations, I stumbled across a story that I really liked recently. It's called **__**"Worth A Thousand Words" and it's written by Ferris-Wheel-Fics. Also, please check out the other stories and authors that I have favorited if you get a chance - there are some great ones there.**_

_**Anyway, if you're still reading this, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. Thanks! :-)**_


	49. Chapter 49: Tris - Colic

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! I'm afraid this is another short chapter, but given my schedule this week, at least it's something...**

**Chapter 49: Tris – Colic**

**(Five weeks after Abigail's birth; Tris is 26 and Tobias is 28)**

Right now, I don't care how delicious the wedding dinner was. It was absolutely not worth it, not with how it has transformed my sweet little girl into a crying, screaming, thrashing, inconsolable package of raw nerves. Cara assures us that it's "just colic," and that it's nothing to worry about, but that word is nowhere near long enough for the agony that goes with it.

I have never been so tired in my life.

"So much for the swing," Tobias declares in aggravation, practically kicking it out of his way as he resumes carrying Abigail around the apartment. Shauna had assured us that the swing would help, saying it was the only way they got Lionel to sleep on many nights. Clearly, our daughter is different from their son.

But it's not like anything else has worked, either. By now, the apartment floor is riddled with items that we've used in our fruitless efforts, and the difficulty of navigating between them is adding to our overall stress.

Objectively, I know it's not Abigail's fault. Her stomach is too upset for her to eat or sleep, and she clearly isn't comfortable in any position. But after five hours of struggling to make this better, we're at our wits' end. I never knew a baby's cries could hit so many nerves.

"Can we get some of this out of the way?" Tobias snarls as he almost trips over a toy that's sitting in the middle of the living room floor. He kicks it in aggravation, launching it all the way into the kitchen, where it's promptly followed by the sound of shattering glass.

"Oh, that helps," I snap at him, grabbing Abigail from his arms. "Why don't _you_ clean up the mess while _I_ walk her around?"

I have rarely seen Tobias look so livid. "Fine," he growls, proceeding to throw items into a corner of the room, one after another, with no care whatsoever. The noise makes Abigail strain even more in my arms, somehow making her scream even louder.

It splits my last nerve. "Tobias, just…go! You're not helping." He glares at me for a moment before I add, "Go for a walk or something. Calm down."

The words cause him to freeze, his eyes widening as he assesses his current level of anger and self-control in a way I don't think he's had to do for years. He nods curtly before heading out the door.

Unfortunately, that leaves me alone with our very upset daughter.

"Abigail, _please_ stop crying," I plead, feeling tears in my own eyes as I bounce her lightly up and down while walking through the hazard area that is currently our apartment. "Please."

She just continues to scream.

Switching back to singing, despite how sore my throat is at this point, I find myself stringing together nonsense from a dozen different songs. I'm too tired to remember the words, and it feels like my arms are going to fall off at any moment, and I can barely stay upright. How can someone this small wear me out this much?

A crashing sound from down the hallway catches my attention through everything else, and I stop moving for the first time in hours as I stare at the door. Should I go see what it was? Or should I lock the door and stay here where it's safe?

My fatigued brain doesn't reach a conclusion before the door swings open, and Tobias comes in, carrying a package of some kind.

"Put her down for a minute," he calls over the wailing that's filling the room. "And help me get this on."

My eyes roam over what he's holding, trying to identify it, before I finally recognize it as the baby carrier that Tori gave us.

"It's nice out, and nothing else is working, so I'm going to take her for a walk," Tobias adds.

Abigail's screeches reach a new level as our eyes lock. In the entire time we've been married, I have never once worried that Tobias would hurt me or any children we might have. But right now, we are both _way_ past our frustration limits, and I can't help but wonder if he's sufficiently in control for this.

He can obviously see my doubt. "Tris, I'm not going to hurt her." Still holding my gaze, he holds up a pair of the protective earmuffs that he wears on loud construction projects. "I'm going to wear these, and put her in the carrier, and just walk." There's another pause before he adds, "Please trust me."

And I do. Laying Abigail in her crib and pulling the side up, I try to ignore her screams as I help Tobias wrestle the carrier into place, adjusting the straps and making sure it's secure. He gives me a half-smile as he puts the ear protectors on.

It takes both of us to get our crying, thrashing bundle of tension into the carrier and to make the final adjustments to ensure a safe, snug fit.

"Get some sleep," Tobias tells me firmly before heading out the door, the sound of wailing slowly fading away behind him.

For all of five seconds, I think that's an impossibility, given how worried I am about Abigail and how stressed I am by all of this. But exhaustion works wonders, and I'm out the moment I hit the bed.

I'm awakened by Tobias' weight as he lies down next to me. "She's finally asleep," he reassures me, sounding more tired than I've ever heard him, but relieved at the same time. Glancing at the clock, I realize that he must have walked her for close to two hours.

"Is she okay?" I can't help asking.

"Yeah." His voice is an exhausted whisper. "But I don't think you should eat anything spicy again for a while." He gives a strangled chuckle. "Like until after she's stopped nursing."

Somehow, I summon the energy to lean over and kiss him lightly. "Thank you for walking her."

He pulls me against him, resting his forehead on mine, and for a moment he just breathes my air. "I couldn't have done this with anyone else, you know." There's a vulnerability in his voice that hurts to hear, and yet sends a strange, sweet warmth through me at the same time. "I was thinking about that as I walked. About how much you healed me. If I manage to be a decent husband and father, it will be because of you."

But I shake my head. "No, Tobias. You're already amazing at both of those, but it's not because of me." I run a hand gently through his hair. "It's all you."

He smiles against my skin as sleep claims us both.

* * *

_**A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. This is going to be a rough week for updating, and I could really use the encouragement to find time to write.**_

_**Some news/answers to guest reviewers….**_

_**1\. I have posted an outtake from "Prior Rings" under my "Windchimed M-Stories" account. If you're old enough to read Mature material, please check it out (the link is on my Favorites page). If you're not at least 16, please don't try to read it! I don't want anyone getting in trouble with their parents over my stories….**_

_**2\. I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to my "Becoming Determinant" story in so long! I've been updating the A/N at the end of the last chapter of it, as well as updating my Profile page, with when I expect to resume updating it. So, please check those spots for the latest estimate, though I'm sorry to say it's still subject to change. Too many competing priorities!**_

_**3\. For the guest reviewer asking what else I've written, you can find all of my stories on my Profile page. I don't currently have anything posted elsewhere, though I'll be writing original fiction at some point, and I still need to decide where to post that. :-)**_

_**Thank you all again! I truly appreciate your support.**_


	50. Chapter 50: Peter - Acknowledgements

_**A/N: Wow, I'm actually posting two updates in one day: this one and a new chapter for my "Waiting" story (which is under my Windchimed M-Stories username). Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

**Chapter 50: Peter – Acknowledgements**

**(December 1, Year 10: Peter is 27, Tris is 26, Tobias is 28, and Abigail is 3 ½ months old)**

I know I need tonight's support session. The old agitated energy has been coursing through me lately, making me itch to hit someone. I don't even seem to care if I get hit back – something I realized halfway through trying to start that stupid bar fight last week. Good thing it's hard to start fights in the UCA, or Anna would have been even more pissed at me….

Today's meeting is in one of Erudite's large conference rooms – the kind that Max used when revving us up back in the Civil War. I don't particularly like the reminder. It makes me think of Dad dying in the Candor ranks, and of how I betrayed him and half the rest of the city. It also makes me remember walking the Stiff through the hallways to and from her torture sessions. Given everything she and Four did for me after that, it's hard not to feel a little guilty about the way I treated her, even if I did save her life afterwards.

The group accumulates slowly, as usual. The Erudite are always prompt, so we'll start right on time, which means those of us who travel here from other parts of the city have to get here early or risk being late. And you get dirty looks if you walk in partway through a meeting.

Four nods at me when he arrives, just a few minutes before starting time, and I nod back. The guy looks tired, but I suppose having a baby will do that to you. He seems to be handling it okay, though, since he hasn't confessed anything about wanting to hit the kid.

I make a point of greeting Kevin when he comes in, and of letting him know that I need to talk to him afterwards. With how aggressive I've been feeling lately, there's no doubt I'll want extra time with my sponsor tonight. He agrees affably enough before going over to talk to Four, and I watch the two of them for a bit.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if Four had agreed to be my sponsor. I still think I was right to ask him, since he was the only person here I knew, but overall, it's probably better that he turned me down. I know how to push his buttons a little too well, and that wouldn't have helped either of us. Kevin, on the other hand, doesn't let me get away with _anything_. He's an annoying turd that way, but it's why I'm here, after all.

Besides, Four would have decked me at least once by now, I'm sure. He's not exactly the world's most forgiving guy, despite all the rhetoric in group, and part of him will always hate me for what I did to his wife.

If I'm honest, I deserve it.

Kevin is the senior member tonight, so he opens the session, standing at the front and stomping his foot twice to get everyone's attention. The group is a lot better than the Dauntless about shutting up quickly.

"Before we start sharing," he announces, "we have a special milestone to honor." It's not uncommon to have those, mostly for one-month points, though I celebrated a year last month. He smiles as he looks at Four. "Tobias joined this program ten years ago, and he deserves our recognition tonight."

The reaction is strong, compared with the usual polite clapping that goes with these things. Four must have helped a lot of people over the years for them to react this way – or maybe it's just that we don't see ten-year points often. Regardless, I join in with the loud applause as he makes his way to the front of the room, glancing at the rest of us before facing Kevin.

Kevin, however, continues to address the audience. "For anyone who has been living under a rock for the last decade, let me tell you a little about Tobias' role in stopping abuse. Just over ten years ago, he broadcast a message to what was then the New United States of America. We here in this city are the only ones who didn't hear it, so it is difficult for us to imagine the impact it had."

He meets Four's gaze for a moment before turning back to us. "He broadcast what all of us in this room have lived. He showed the entire population the pain of being abused, and of watching someone we love be abused. And then he showed them the reality of crossing that line. He made them feel the guilt that all of us know – that horrible moment of seeing our reflection in the eyes of someone we hurt, and of realizing that we have become the person we _swore_ we never would."

His voice is fierce, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. "That message changed the world outside this city to a degree you will never understand unless you travel there. But I saw it for myself some seven months later, and I talked with people who lived there before and after that change." He shakes his head as if he doesn't know how to convey that experience, and he searches the audience before his eyes lock with mine.

"Peter, you spend half your time there, so you tell us. How much of a problem has abuse been outside this city since the broadcast?"

I hate being put on the spot. I always have. So, I stare down at my lap while I decide what to say. My instinct is to be sarcastic, as I usually am, but the truth is…I can't deny the impact of Four's broadcast. What Kevin is saying is completely true. Maybe even an understatement.

"There's basically no abuse there anymore," I finally answer. "People don't let it happen."

An outbreak of muttering spreads through the room, and I hear someone ask why Tobias didn't do the same thing here.

It's an ignorant question, and I find myself snapping at whoever said it. "We're too resistant to the serum." Rolling my eyes, I continue, "That was the whole purpose of this city, if you recall – to develop people that the Suggestibility Serum doesn't affect. So no, he couldn't do the same thing here."

My annoyed glare meets Dave's, and I realize that he was the one who spoke. It figures. He's a typical Dauntless meathead. But I try to push my temper down the way Kevin teaches, and I add more calmly, "_I_ heard the broadcast, but I still ended up here. You'd all be the same way if you heard it."

It's not quite true, since some of them are more resistant than others, but it's close enough. A broadcast wouldn't be enough to change any of them the way they need.

"Peter's right," Four calls over the remaining mutters. "I _gave_ the broadcast, and _I_ still ended up here." He gives a self-deprecating shrug. "Those of us in the city have to do things the long, hard way."

There's silence at that, and Kevin clears his throat before resuming his interrupted speech. "That leads me to what Tobias has done in this group. In the course of his ten years, he has sponsored eleven people, seven of whom are still in the program. That is an outstanding success ratio."

A smattering of applause greets the words, and Kevin gives a small smile. "In addition to that, he has helped many of you through your personal struggles." The applause is louder this time, and I know that everyone agrees with him. People hang on what Four says during sharing, and on his advice, particularly since he's one of the lucky few who got back together with his ex thanks to the program.

Kevin addresses Four directly for the next part. "Tobias, you have been an inspiration and a role model to this entire group, as well as a hell of a sponsee." Chuckles pop up around the room at that. "I am _very_ proud to present you with this token of acknowledgement."

There's some type of silent exchange between the two before Four takes the metal coin from his sponsor. Kevin grins as he pulls his sponsee into a quick hug, thumping his back while the group cheers.

The chanting starts almost immediately. "Speech, speech, speech."

Four nods in response, looking less stone-faced than usual as he turns to us. "It's only fair to tell you that I _hated_ this group at first." There's a collective laugh, which increases when he adds, "As I suspect most of you can understand." There's no denying that – we all wish we'd never ended up here.

"I hated that I'd hurt someone I loved. I hated that I could feel my father's blood flowing through my veins. I hated that whenever I even tried to think about the future, all I could picture was my past."

His gaze roams the group. "I wanted to deny that all of that was true, and to pretend that I could just be with my girlfriend and be okay. And never hit her again." A sad smile lifts one corner of his mouth. "The same way most of you want to think that."

His eyes find me and stay there. "But someone told me that I was kidding myself, and that what happened wasn't a fluke." The words surprise me, because I know he's talking about our conversation back in that Philadelphia hospital years ago. It's the first time he's ever mentioned it. "And deep down, I knew he was right."

There's a pause while he continues to stare at me, nodding slowly in acknowledgement. And gradually it sinks in that he's grateful for what I said that day. I had always assumed that it was one more thing he held against me, but apparently not.

"That was one of the harshest realities I've ever had to accept, but I will always be glad for where it led. Because if I hadn't joined this group, and if I hadn't _stuck with it_ no matter how much I didn't want to, there is no way I would have the life I do now."

He shakes his head, his expression somewhat awed. "I have a wife, and a daughter, and I'm able to trust myself to be with them. That means _everything_ to me. And it _never_ would have been possible without this group." His gesture includes the entire room.

"So, to those of you who wonder if it's all worth it, the answer is _yes_. Absolutely, unambiguously, _yes_. Take this program seriously. Commit yourself to it. And someday you will be standing here saying the same thing."

The side of his mouth quirks into a smile. "Even if you drive your sponsor nuts during your first year."

Kevin laughs, but he applauds with the rest of us as Four returns to his seat. He's clearly still in a good mood as he says, "All right, who wants to share first?"

* * *

Everyone else has left by the time I make my way over to Kevin and Four, who are talking with the other two senior members. I'd rather not interrupt them, but I still need some time with Kevin tonight, and I ought to talk to Four about the UCA's upcoming celebration, too.

"At least he didn't go into his _fear landscape_ afterwards," Kevin says through a round of deep laughter, giving Four a good-natured clap on the back. Judging by the red on Four's face, he must have done that at some point.

Brian shakes his head disbelievingly as he chuckles, too. "No, I suppose it was slightly better than that." He turns more serious when he catches sight of me standing there awkwardly. "Which one of us are you after?"

"Them." I point to both Four and Kevin. "But separately."

Four frowns a little. "I have to get home," he declares. "You can walk with me if you want to talk now, or we can set something up for later."

"Now's fine," I answer, shrugging nonchalantly. It could wait, too, but part of me wants to do it while he's in the mood to acknowledge that I helped him once.

Kevin's gaze moves between us somewhat warily, probably assessing if we'll end up in a fight. But I guess he decides to trust us, because he finally tells me, "Come by my apartment afterwards if you still need to talk to me."

So, Four and I end up walking through the cold night toward his Kaizen faction.

"There's another ten year anniversary coming up, you know," I start as I pull my collar up around my face in an attempt to block the bitter wind. "Our office is supposed to help with the UCA's big celebration."

Four nods, obviously knowing where I'm going with this, but he lets me finish anyway. "They still want to give us medals, so I'm supposed to try to get you all to go."

"My answer is the same as for the fifth anniversary," Four says firmly. "We all go, or none of us do. So, it depends on Amar."

I sigh. Anna warned me it would come down to this, but it's my job to try anyway.

"You could bring his medal back to him. Isn't that better than him not getting one at all?"

But Four shakes his head. "I'm not going to exclude him. He deserves the honor more than any of the rest of us do, and you know it. We'll wait for him to be well enough to go with us."

"And what if that never happens?" I snap, frustrated with his stubbornness.

His answer is to glare at me. "If you'd bothered to check on him before talking to me, you'd know that he's _far_ better than he was. He works an outside job now, and we only do the therapy as a precaution. He almost never actually needs it these days."

That surprises me, and I purse my lips thoughtfully. "So, do you think he'll be ready for the celebration, then? It's still over nine months away."

He lets out a long sigh, running a hand up the back of his neck. "I don't know. Maybe…. I'll talk to the faction about it and let you know."

The words have a familiar ring of dismissal, and I can't resist calling him on it. "The last time you said something like that, you turned me down. If that's what you're doing this time, just say it."

He stops walking and faces me, his expression mixed. "Peter, I did seriously consider sponsoring you. I really did. But we both know why it would have been a bad idea." He holds my gaze for a second. "You need a sponsor who can view you consistently, and give you credit when you deserve it. Not someone who constantly struggles between the good you've done and…the Chasm."

He sighs again, looking away, before adding, "For what it's worth…I do appreciate some of the other things you've done. It might even have been enough to outweigh the bad if you'd done that to someone else." He gives a wry half-smile as he shakes his head a little. "But it was Tris…."

It's a harsh reality, knowing that he still views me based on what I did a decade ago, and I find myself wanting to squirm out of it somehow.

"If you hate everyone who ever hurt her," I end up asking, "then how did you forgive yourself, or Caleb?"

His laugh is bitter. "You don't really think I did, do you?" He raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "I'll probably always struggle with that. But even so, the intent was different. Caleb was drugged, and I let the heat of the moment get to me when I was fighting my father. That doesn't justify what I did by any means, but it's still very different from what you did."

He eyes me, his expression hardening. "Peter, you tried to kill her just because she outranked you. And you treated her like shit through the entire rest of the training, when she never did _anything_ to you at all. That's…." He shakes his head again. "I don't know how to forgive that."

We're silent as his words sink all the way through me. I don't even know why they bother me so much. Maybe it's because if a former Stiff can't forgive me, then I must be unforgivable.

Eventually, he says quietly, "But thank you for saving her life later. And for what you did on the mission. And for getting me to leave her." He manages a small smile. "Whether or not I like it, I owe you a lot."

The comment takes me back years, to hiding under the stairs in an abandoned building as I explained why I rescued Tris from Erudite. _Because I owed her._

The memory makes me shake my head. "I don't go by that philosophy anymore." It was how I lived for a long time – only helping others if I owed them or if I wanted something from them – but it didn't hold up once I got out into the bigger world. There, it just made me miserable, and I had plenty of _that_ in my life already.

"Good," Four says simply. With that, we're silent again, until he eventually turns to leave. "I really will talk to the others," he adds over his shoulder, "and I'll let you know about the awards ceremony."

Something tugs at me as I watch him walk away. As if this is my only chance to make him see me differently. It shouldn't really matter if he does, but I guess maybe part of me still thinks of him as a role model. He's been through most of the same things I have, but he's certainly come through them better. I should learn from that.

"Four, wait!" I call after him. The street is empty enough for him to hear me, and I watch as he stiffens before turning back to face me. I catch up to him quickly, afraid that he'll leave if I don't.

"I do regret it," I admit, my heart hammering with the words. It's the first time I've acknowledged that. "Not…you know, the good stuff. But the way I treated her." I stare at my feet. "It was wrong."

It takes him a while to answer. "Yeah, it was," he finally states.

It's not an encouraging response, and it's followed by a silence that threatens to drag on forever. It shouldn't surprise me. I don't even know what I'm hoping to gain from this.

I'm about to walk away when he adds, "If it makes you feel any better, Tris forgave you." My head jerks up sharply, and I stare at him, surprised. I knew she'd moved on from all of it a long time ago, and that she found a way to work with me. But I didn't think she'd actually _forgiven_ me. It feels startlingly good to hear that.

"She did?"

He nods, evaluating me – though I don't know for what. Whatever he sees makes the side of his mouth twitch, and he reaches forward, patting me on the shoulder almost kindly. "Tell you what, Peter. When you hit your ten-year point in the program, let's have this conversation again. Maybe I'll have figured out how to forgive all of us by then."

It's clearly the best he can offer, and I find myself smiling a little as I agree.

It's not until I'm almost back at Kevin's that I realize the aggressive energy I've been struggling with all month is gone. In its place, there's a strange sort of feeling I'm not sure I recognize. If I had to give it a name, I think I'd call it hope.

_**A/N: Hopefully, Peter's POV worked. I never expected to write in it, but it kind of called out to me. Anyway, please let me know what you thought of it!**_


	51. Chapter 51: Amar - Decisions

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

**Chapter 51: Amar –Decisions**

**(June 1, Year 10: Tris is almost 27, Tobias is 29, and Abigail is 9 ½ months old)**

Abigail crawls back and forth between her parents and the rest of us as we get ready to start our faction meeting. She knows all of us well, of course, but she seems excited to see the whole group of us together in one place, filling every seat in the gathering room.

Pausing by George, she uses his leg to haul herself into a standing position, grinning widely at her accomplishment. God, that kid is adorable.

"Are you here to see me?" George asks with mock seriousness, leaning down so his face is close to hers. He earns a string of babbling coos for his efforts, along with an attempt to grab his nose. It makes him laugh.

"All right," he concedes. "I know what you want."

Covering his face with his hands, he opens his fingers just enough to reveal one eye before saying, "Boo!" She squeals in delight, and he proceeds to repeat the exercise, exposing his eyes differently each time to keep her guessing. My husband has far more patience for baby games than I do, though I enjoy watching the two of them together. He's good with her.

"Are we ready to start?" Cara asks, her voice crisp as she looks around to make sure everyone is here. She's currently serving as our faction leader, since neither Four nor Tris wanted the hassle while Abigail is so young. One of these days, maybe I'll give the position a try. I'd like to think I'm stable enough now.

"Very well," Cara continues as the room falls silent – except for George's murmured "boos" and Abigail's continued shrieks. "We're here to make a final decision on the UCA's anniversary. They need to know whether or not they're including the awards ceremony, so they need us to say if we're coming."

It's been a topic of much debate since Four first raised it six months ago. Everyone was preliminarily in at the time, but then George started to worry about me, and then Tris and Four started debating if they should take Abigail or not, and then Christina announced she was pregnant. It's now looking unlikely that we'll make it.

"Should we have an initial vote to see where we stand?" Tris asks reasonably. "Then, we can discuss it and vote again if we need to."

It's a sensible suggestion, and when no one objects, Cara takes it. "All right, everyone in favor of going, raise your hand."

Mine immediately lifts, and I give George a glare when he hesitates. Sighing, he raises his, too. He's still worried about me being in front of a crowd that size, but I don't honestly think the number of people will matter. A crowd is a crowd, and I've been doing okay with them lately. Most of the time, anyway.

Four's gaze flits between me and George for a few more seconds before he raises his hand, too. It's nice that he's only willing to go if all of us do, but sometimes I hate that he's so focused on taking care of me. After ten years of this stuff, I'm tired of needing help.

Margaret votes yes as well, even though she's not really part of this decision, since she won't be getting an award. Still, I suppose she might like to go with Four to see her brother get a medal.

I'm vaguely surprised when Christina raises a stubborn hand, ignoring the way Uriah tries to push it down. In the end, he and Cara are the only two who vote no.

"Who are you concerned about?" I can't help asking Cara, knowing that there's an equal chance that it's me or Christina.

"Both of you," she answers defiantly. "It's a long trip, with a lot of stress, and I don't think it would be good for your recovery." Turning to Christina, she adds, "And I certainly can't advise you to go when you'll be eight months pregnant at the time!"

Christina rolls her eyes. "I'll be _fine_. I'm having a totally normal pregnancy and I'm not in a high risk category or anything. It will be an uncomfortable car ride, but that's about it."

Uriah shakes his head, looking frustrated. They've obviously had this argument before. "There's _always_ a chance of an early delivery, and I don't want my baby being born in the car, or in Philadelphia. _Here_ is the safest place. You _know_ that."

"Weren't you _Dauntless_ once?" she snaps back. It's a low blow, but Uri answers it without pause.

"I'm _Kaizen_ now, and that means we're supposed to use our _heads_, too. Maybe you should try it."

Christina looks livid, and as my gaze moves back and forth between the two of them, I realize something. _This isn't worth it._ And I'm the one who can stop it.

"It doesn't matter," I state loudly enough to override their argument. "Cara's still voting no, right?" I meet her eyes briefly, trying to convey that she should stick to her guns, and she nods firmly.

I shrug as if I'm conceding defeat. "Maybe she's right. After that panic attack in January, I might be overestimating my ability to handle crowds."

There's a pause before Cara says, "_What_ panic attack?" She sounds furious, as she always does when I hide something about my health. She tries so hard to keep my therapy running smoothly, and I know it. But sometimes I just have to be my own man.

"It was mild," I tell her, "and it was caused by a bizarre combination of events, so I wasn't worried about it. But I have to admit that going all the way to Philadelphia and being in front of a crowd that big…is less than appealing. So, if the rest of you don't mind too much, can we put it off until the fifteenth anniversary?"

I'm pretty sure that half the room knows what I'm doing. Uri looks incredibly grateful, and George squeezes my hand, and there's definite respect in Four's eyes – and in Tris' too. Christina, though, evaluates me for a long moment. I gaze back, making sure to hide my usual tells so she won't be able to decide for certain if I'm doing this for her or myself. I guess my Candor therapy sessions are finally paying off.

She sighs as she says, "I guess that would be better for me, too."

* * *

"Did you really have a panic attack?" Cara asks me later, pressing her lips together the way she does when she's trying not to be mad.

"I wouldn't call it an _attack_," I reassure her quietly, glancing around to make sure no one else can hear us. "A car back-fired while I was walking through a crowded area, and I was having a bad day anyway, and it all just became overwhelming." My shoulders lift a little. "I ended up going into a nearby building and crouching under the stairs for a few minutes."

In retrospect, the whole thing seems silly, but that's the problem with brain damage. I can't always see things accurately at the time.

She sighs. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because, Cara, sometimes you treat me like I'm five years old, and I am an _adult_." She glares at me, affronted, but I meet her gaze without flinching. "I know I was in really bad shape at first, and I appreciate that you helped me through that. But you need to understand that I'm not in the same condition anymore. I want to _live_ my life, not hide from everything that might upset me."

For a long moment, she appraises me, biting her lip unconsciously in the habit that everyone picked up from Four's broadcast. Finally, she nods, looking a bit sad. "I'm sorry," she says softly. "I didn't mean to seem overbearing. I just wanted to help you get better."

The comment draws a reassuring smile from me, and I pat her shoulder gently. "I know. But you've succeeded – a lot more than I expected in those early days. It's time to move beyond that." She looks wary, and I continue before she can protest. "I'd like to start working on my Amity aptitude."

Her expression borders on panic now, and I can't entirely blame her. It's scary as hell to think about deliberately putting myself into the damaged part of my brain again. But it feels like the next stage of growth for me.

"As I understand it," I say levelly, "the damage didn't take out that _entire_ part of my brain. Just some of it. So, it seems like we could build up the good parts and create new neural pathways from those, without going into the bad part. That's what we did with my Dauntless aptitude, right? Why would this be any different?"

She shakes her head, her mouth even flatter. "Because the damage there is much more significant. It's risky to go near it."

"But not impossible," I argue, determined to get her to see my perspective on this. "I'd like to work with Four on it. He's not exactly a happy-go-lucky, Amity type of person, but he's learned how to be a lot kinder over the years. He could show me how he learned that, and I could build new neural pathways from the experience."

She sighs, tucking a loose hair back into place with the rest of her neatly-pinned locks as she considers that. "Would you communicate _honestly_ with me throughout the process?"

I smile softly. "Yes, I'm willing to commit to that."

She's silent for a little longer before she nods, looking somewhat resigned. "Okay. I guess we can work with it. But you'll need extra sessions at first, to make sure it's working for you. An Amity session, and then a Dauntless one right afterwards, and another one later in the week."

She holds my gaze, making sure I'm willing to return to that kind of schedule. And I have to admit it's not appealing – I've gotten used to only needing a session every other week. But I do want to try this, so after a second, I nod, too.

Extending my hand, I tell her, "It's a deal."

* * *

_**A/N: For those who have been asking how long I expect this story to be, it will probably be 57 chapters. Depending on exactly where I stop between chapters, it could be 56 or 58, but 57 is most likely. There's one more significant event that the rest of the story will focus on, and then I'm afraid that will be it.**_

_**Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I'm going to be out of town for a few days for my daughter's college graduation, so I'll have limited ability to answer PMs, but I always appreciate reviews! :-)**_


	52. Chapter 52: Tris - Round Two

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and for all of the good wishes about my daughter's graduation! It involved a lot of walking in very hot weather, but it was definitely enjoyable.**_

_**Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

**Chapter 52: Tris – Round Two**

**(Tris is 30, Tobias is 32, Abigail is almost 4, and Christina's daughter Emily is close to 3)**

Birthday parties are still a strange concept to both Tobias and me. We never even tracked our birthdates growing up, let alone celebrated them, since the Abnegation don't believe in either. But we're slowly learning to do more, thanks to everyone else in our faction.

For Abigail's first birthday, Christina and Shauna threw a surprise party, filled with decorations and presents and noise. I'm not sure if it was more overwhelming for Abigail or for Tobias and me, but I'm pretty sure it would have been a complete failure if they hadn't served copious amounts of Dauntless cake. That was Abigail's first taste of the dessert, and she immediately became a fan.

The next two years, Tobias and I took the lead in planning our daughter's party, mostly to make sure that no one else would. We held a small party each time, inviting just our family and closest friends – and Abigail's playmates.

This year, though, is different. Abigail is old enough now to make some decisions about what she wants to do and who she wants to invite. So, we make a point of including her as we begin planning in late July.

"I want it in the park," she immediately proclaims, "like Avery's. And I want to invite Emily and _all_ my friends from preschool. But not Jeremy. He's mean. And I want chocolate cake, and a tightrope."

The last part clearly startles Tobias. "A tightrope?"

Abigail nods enthusiastically. "Like Michael had."

Tobias' gaze meets mine, somewhat confused, and I remember that he didn't attend that particular party. "It was a Dauntless theme," I explain. "The tightrope was four feet in the air, with a big pad under it for when the kids fell. It was actually pretty fun."

He looks at us like we're crazy, but Abigail chimes in again. "Not just _pretty_ fun. It was _really, really_ fun, Mommy!" She looks at me, waiting for me to agree, before it seems to occur to her that her father is the one who needs to be convinced. Turning to him, she says, "Please, Daddy? I _really_ want one. Please?"

"We'll think about it," he says noncommittally, but it's obvious that he's not thrilled with the idea. For a second, Abigail stares at him, biting her lip as she debates whether to continue pleading, but she's apparently learned by now that she never gets her way when she does that. So, instead she sighs, looking dejected. I really don't think she's doing it on purpose, to be manipulative, but the reality is that her current expression stands a better chance of working than anything else. Tobias _hates_ seeing her sad.

He clears his throat uncomfortably. "Do you want any presents?" he asks, trying to change the subject.

She thinks about that far more seriously than an almost-four-year-old should. "Can we get a new brain for Uri?"

"_What?_" I ask, choking on the word.

"Well, Chris-tina said he needs one, 'cause his doesn't always work."

Beside me, I can feel Tobias' silent laughter, and it doesn't exactly help me contain my own reaction. But Abigail hates being laughed at, so I try to keep my face straight as I answer.

"I'm pretty sure that Christina was just joking about that, sweetie. Sometimes, she gets annoyed with Uriah, but he doesn't need a new brain."

"Oh." She looks confused. "But Zeke said it, too."

My mouth is open to answer when Tobias beats me to it. "Then I guess they must be right." His tone is completely serious, and there's only the faintest trace of amusement on his face. "We'll put a new brain for Uriah on the top of your list. But is there anything that you'd like just for you?"

I swear I see her eyes twinkle as she says, "Just my own tightrope."

* * *

"So, exactly how are we getting Uriah a new brain?" I ask as I plop down next to Tobias on the couch. Abigail is sound asleep, so it's a safe time to discuss it.

He smirks. "Oh, I imagine that Cara or Caleb can get us something that will work. You know, a hat that he has to wear for a few days while the brain sinks into his head." He snakes his arm around me, drawing me close as he adds, "Preferably something itchy and uncomfortable."

I laugh. "You're going to miss her gullibility in a few years, you know."

"Yeah." He leans down, running his nose lightly along my jawline and kissing behind my ear. Even after all this time, he still knows how to take my breath away. "We could do something about that, you know."

"Keep her from hanging out with the rest of the faction?" I suggest.

His chuckle vibrates from deep in his throat. "I was thinking more like giving her a little brother or sister."

It's a surprising comment, and I draw back a few inches so I can look at him. "Really?" It's not that I've never considered having a second child, but I've never felt a driving need, either. Abigail has always been enough, and it feels greedy somehow to ask for more than her. "I didn't know you were starting to think about that."

His shoulder lifts. "As you said, she's getting older – almost school age. That's good in quite a few ways, but there are things I'm going to miss. I could definitely get into having a second one." His lips curve upwards. "And I'll never object to the process of trying…."

I smile as I debate the idea. "She'd be a great big sister."

"She would."

"And we already have everything we need."

He nods. "Plus, we already know how to change diapers, and handle the screaming, and live without sleep."

"Are you trying to win me over or get me to say no?" I ask wryly.

"Just being honest." His expression turns more serious, though, as he adds, "If you'd rather stop with just one, that's fine, you know. Abigail is already so much more than I expected. I'm just…opening the door if you'd like to go that way."

Slowly, I nod, making my decision.

"Yes." A grin spreads across both of our faces as our eyes hold each other's. "It's the right time, and I love being a mom, and I know you love being a dad." His agreement is written in every part of his expression. "So, yes."

There's no way to miss the joy that's radiating from him as his lips find mine, and I know that my own happiness and excitement are just as obvious to him. Somehow, it's even better to think about this time around, now that we know what we're doing – at least somewhat.

"I hope this one has your eyes," Tobias murmurs as he links his hands with mine, pulling me to my feet and toward our bedroom.

"Why?" I can't help asking. "Your eyes are amazing."

His mouth shows his disagreement, and he looks away as he gives a small shrug. "They're nice on Abigail, but I'd still prefer yours." It takes me a second to understand, and I feel foolish when I get it. He spent his entire childhood staring into those eyes on his father's face, and associating them with fear and pain. _Of course_ he'd rather see mine.

Still, he smiles again as he adds, "Your eyes were the first thing I noticed about you, you know." He shuts our door behind us before pulling me flush against his body, his fingers moving lightly down my arms while my own find their way to his chest. "And they drew me in immediately." His lips begin working their way slowly along my neck as he whispers into my skin. "The way they're filled with strength, and intelligence, and energy." He breathes my scent, a hint of a moan in his voice. "I could stare into them forever."

"I feel the same way about yours," I murmur back as I work his shirt slowly off him. "But since I already got my way once, I'll let you have this one." I kiss his chest, allowing my lips and fingertips to explore his skin, feeling the muscles that are still strong beneath it. "But you have to get your sperm to agree."

He chuckles as he lifts my chin so our mouths can meet. "That's always the tricky part."

It's the last thing that either of us says that evening, at least in coherent words. But there are other ways to speak, and we have quite the conversation in those languages.

* * *

I make a point of avoiding the rest of the faction after I return from my doctor's appointment. When I first found out that I was pregnant with Abigail, Christina figured it out before I could tell anyone – she just looked at me and knew, in her typical Candor fashion. And then she blabbed it excitedly to the whole room, as she also tends to do. So, Tobias ended up finding out along with everyone else.

In a way, it didn't really matter. He'd been telling me for weeks that I was pregnant, claiming he could tell because my scent had changed. So, all he did was smirk when Christina squealed the news.

This time, though, I want him to be the first to know. _Officially_, not just because he already suspects it.

I wait in our apartment, letting Abigail stay with Christina and her little Emily for longer than necessary so I can greet my husband without anyone hearing. It doesn't take long for him to come home.

"Hi," I say as he enters, trying to keep my face from giving him any hints as I walk over to him.

He smiles, as he always does when he sees me, and gives me a warm kiss. For all of two seconds, our eyes meet, and I watch as his smile widens into a full-out grin.

"I knew it," he says, chuckling when I hit his arm in annoyance.

"You're supposed to let me tell you."

He pulls me to him playfully, nuzzling into my hair. "You already did, the night it happened. Your scent had changed by morning."

"So, you're saying that I smell now?"

He laughs. "You still smell like _Tris_, and that is absolutely my favorite odor." His voice deepens as he murmurs, "And trust me, it still makes it hard to keep my hands off you. But it also makes me…more protective, I guess."

It's an interesting comment, and I don't really have an answer for it, so instead I continue to the other topic that we need to discuss. "When should we tell Abigail?"

Tobias frowns in thought. "Maybe we should wait until the halfway point. Nine months is a long time to wait at that age."

I weigh that for a moment, thinking about the risk of miscarriage, which is always highest in the first trimester, and about our daughter's level of patience. "All right," I finally agree. "Then, I guess I'd better talk to Christina now. There's no way she'll keep a secret otherwise."

"Oh, I don't know," Tobias comments as we head upstairs together. "She seems to be learning." He smirks at me. "After all, she did remarkably well with Uriah's brain hat…."

_**A/N: To anyone who missed it in my last Author's Note, I'm expecting this story to have 57 chapters in total. I'm currently mapping out a handful of other stories, so I'm not sure which one(s) I'll work on next, other than finishing "Becoming Determinant," which will be my first priority after this one. I'm thinking about doing a poll to see what people would be most interested in reading, so please keep an eye out for that.**_

_**In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Thanks!**_


	53. Chapter 53: Tobias - Complicated

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**WARNING: If you are pregnant, particularly if you're in your last trimester, do NOT read this chapter until after you have your nice, normal, safe delivery. Trust me on this.**_

* * *

**Chapter 53: Tobias – Complicated**

**(Tris is 30, Tobias is almost 33, Abigail is 4 3/4, and Emily is 3 1/2)**

"Have you been watching your sugar intake?" Dr. Martinez asks, her expression somewhat sour.

"_Yes_," Tris answers immediately, and I confirm it more roughly than is probably necessary. I can't quite help it – the doctor looks like she doesn't believe us.

"Well, I don't know how to account for the baby's growth, then." She returns to looking at the ultrasound. "But there's no question that he's big. A lot bigger than Abigail was at this point."

It's certainly not surprising, given how much larger Tris' abdomen has been this time around. She's been doing everything right – watching what she eats and exercising regularly – but she just keeps growing, and so does our son. It's obvious by this point that she's miserably uncomfortable, and there's still a month to go.

"We'll need to keep a close eye on his measurements," Dr. Martinez finally says with a sigh. "It's too soon to say for certain, but if he keeps going at this rate, we're looking at either needing to deliver him early, or surgically. But it depends on his head circumference and his shoulder width, so we'll watch those two for now."

"And in the meantime," she adds, her voice reprimanding, "you need to stick to the diet. Gestational diabetes is no joke."

"I _have_ been," Tris snarls. But it's still obvious that the doctor doesn't believe us, and we're all disgruntled as we part ways until the next appointment.

* * *

"All I'm saying is that I would have been _thrilled_ to have a c-section," Christina tells Tris with a shrug. "No labor pains, and no pushing. You just get your baby handed to you." She gives me a significant look before adding, "It would almost be like being a dad."

I roll my eyes, but Tris frowns at her best friend. "Except that the recovery time is longer, and the delivery is riskier, and I'll be left with scars. I'd rather just do it the way I did with Abigail."

Christina gives her a somewhat more sympathetic pat on the arm. "Yeah, that's not really a choice this time, is it? So, you might as well enjoy the good side of it."

Realistically, she's right. With two weeks to go, Eli has officially grown over the threshold for a vaginal birth, even if they induced today. So, we're scheduled for surgery on his due date, with the provision of having it sooner if labor begins. It's not what we wanted to hear.

Tris gives a long sigh. "Well, at least this way there's an end in sight. It was starting to seem like I'd be pregnant forever."

"I can definitely relate to that," Christina agrees, and I know it's time for me to give them some privacy. I can put up with a lot, but I'd _really_ rather not listen to my wife and her best friend discuss all of the aches and pains and rashes and nausea and various other symptoms of their pregnancies. There are some things it's better not to know.

* * *

Eli shows no sign of budging on his own, so we make our way to the hospital at the scheduled time so they can make him emerge.

"Well, I'd call him a stubborn little kid," Dr. Martinez comments as she does the final pre-surgery ultrasound, "but he's clearly not so little." Switching off the machine, she turns to us. "So, here's how it's going to work."

She sits on the small, rolling chair in the examination room as she faces Tris. "We're going to use a spinal anesthesia – basically, an epidural – so you'll be awake during the procedure. That will allow you to see your baby right away, even if you can't hold him until after we're done."

She shifts her focus to me. "Tobias, you'll scrub in and wear surgical garb, so you can be in the room with us the whole time."

I nod, not sure if I'm relieved or stressed at the idea of watching the surgery. I definitely want to be there for my wife and son, but I can't say I've ever had a burning desire to see an operation. Particularly not one done on Tris. In Erudite.

My hesitation grows stronger the more Dr. Martinez describes the procedure. She delves into considerably more detail than I'd prefer, though apparently not enough for Tris, who asks a number of questions. At times like this, it's easy to see her aptitude for this faction.

By the time the nurse takes us to the prep room, my hands are starting to shake from sheer, raw nerves. But I force the reaction down so I can clean Tris' skin with the sterile wipes and help her into the hospital gown. She's clearly struggling with anxiety about all of this, too, and I refuse to add to that.

"Okay," the nurse says as she pops her head back in. "Are we all set here?" Her tone is too cheery, and I almost mutter something unfriendly under my breath, but instead we both just nod.

"Very well, then. Tobias, I need you to come with me, so you can change and wash up, and then you'll join Tris in the operating room." She gives a gentle smile. "Tris, your prep is a little different, so you can just wait here for a few more minutes, and then Mary will be in to help you."

My heart is pounding so hard that it's difficult to hear over it, and I stumble as I give Tris a quick kiss and then follow the nurse. She takes me down one of the hallways that I remember walking the day Abigail was born, and I find myself staring at another couple as they make their way slowly along it just like we did that day.

I finally remember the nurse's name – Diane – just as she leads me into a small room with no furniture. A metal shelf on the wall holds a pile of clothing, and she gestures towards it.

"Change into those scrubs," she instructs me, "and throw your current clothing into the chute on that side of the room. Then, go through the door on the far side and scrub your hands and arms and face thoroughly. There are instructions by the sink. Make sure you follow them _to the letter_. We don't want Tris to develop an infection because you carry germs into the operating room."

It's a frightening warning, and I nod numbly before making my way into the tight space. This isn't a good time for claustrophobia, but it's all I can do to keep it at bay as I change quickly, glad to move into the next room.

It takes a good ten minutes to wash thoroughly enough to feel safe, and I still have to swallow my fear before I'm able to walk through the next door. It leads into the operating room. At least that one is a bigger space, but Tris isn't here yet, and I find myself standing by the wall, uncertain what to do while I wait for her. It's a long, timeless stretch.

A small leap of relief goes through me when she's finally wheeled in on a hospital gurney. Making my way quickly to her side, I grasp the hand that she stretches toward me. We both grip tightly.

The staff are working in carefully orchestrated movements, getting Tris into position and setting up equipment that beeps and buzzes at various rates, along with a cloth barrier to keep us from seeing the surgery. One glance tells me that it will work considerably better from where Tris is than for me. With my height, I can see over it all too easily, so I hunch down a bit, staying close to my wife's face.

"How are you feeling?" a man asks as he settles on the other side of her head. "Are you getting numb?" It takes me a second to realize that he's the anesthesiologist.

"It's hard to tell, to be honest." Tris' voice is jumping with nerves.

"Okay," he answers. "Then, tell me if you feel this, okay?" He moves to the other side of the curtain, and I try not to think about what he's seeing or touching.

"There," Tris says abruptly. "I felt that."

He doesn't seem fussed as he sits back down. "That's fine, Tris. You're numb through the areas we need, but we'll give you a few more minutes just to be safe."

She swallows, looking around fretfully, and I begin rubbing my thumb in gentle circles on the back of her hand. "Just think," I murmur, "we'll be meeting Eli soon." She nods, but it's hard to say if she actually heard me.

"What if something goes wrong?" she finally whispers, so softly I almost don't catch the words.

"It won't." There's a good portion of me that isn't confident about that, but I say it firmly anyway. She needs me to be strong, and to help her be strong, too.

"I'll be right here with you," I continue, using my free hand to caress her face lightly. "And you'll be awake the whole time, and we'll greet Eli together. Okay?"

She doesn't have a chance to respond before Dr. Martinez walks over to where we can see her. "We're ready to get started, Tris. Remember that you might feel some pressure at different points, particularly when we deliver the baby, but you shouldn't feel any pain. If you do, you need to tell Jonathan immediately, and he'll adjust your dosage."

She waits for Tris to agree before she disappears behind the screen again. And for a few seconds, my wife and I stare at each other, both trying to breathe. It doesn't help when some type of strange whirring sound begins, followed by periodic suction noises. It reminds me of being in a dentist's office, but I don't want to think about what it's sucking up in this case.

"Tobias, I'm scared." Tris' voice is barely audible, but it's enough to yank my heart right through my chest.

I lean down, making sure that she can't see anything other than me, and I hold her gaze fixedly. "I know," I tell her plainly. "But you're strong, and you're healthy, and you're going to get through this just fine." My thumb continues to rub circles on her hand. "And then we'll get to take Eli home, and you won't be the only one who has to carry him around anymore."

She manages a small laugh at that, and I lean down further, kissing her softly on the lips.

"I love you, Tobias," she murmurs against me, and I don't hesitate to respond.

"I love you, too, Tris."

* * *

It's difficult to say how long the procedure takes. My attention is too focused on my wife to watch the clock at all. But time seems to creep by, measured by bursts of suction, and people moving around, and medical dialogue that I don't really want to understand.

Once in a while, I'm tempted to lift my head enough to see over the barrier, but I stop myself each time. I love every inch of my wife, but I don't particularly want to see what's under her skin. So, instead I watch her face, holding her gaze and murmuring anything and everything soothing that finds its way through my addled brain.

I'm at the point where I don't think I can take this any longer when the air is pierced by the sound of a crying infant. Tris' eyes catch mine, and we both grin in sudden excitement as we turn toward the sound.

A nurse I don't recognize is carrying a baby toward the side of the room, and we both watch her, eager for our first glimpse of our son.

"Go get him," Tris says with a deep mixture of relief and joy. "And bring him over here." It's something I'm more than happy to do, and I instantly hop to my feet, crossing the room in two strides.

I'm greeted by the sight of Eli squirming on a baby scale as he continues his screams of protest.

"He certainly is a big one," the nurse tells me with a chuckle. "But very healthy. Would you like to hold him?"

My hands are reaching for him automatically when something draws my attention behind me. Some noise or sixth sense – I don't know exactly what. I just know that I feel an abrupt need to check on Tris, and I turn toward her, my gaze seeking her out.

She's lying still, her eyes rolled up into her head, while the doctor and assistants move rapidly around her. As I stare, frozen in shock and fear, their voices grow louder, conveying an urgency that's almost equal to the long, flat tone of the machine that was measuring her heart rate.

Time becomes a blur of activity and shouting and unanswered questions. I don't come back to reality until the nurse who's been taking care of Eli stands in front of me, shoving her hands against my chest.

"You're putting Tris in _more_ danger," she snaps at me, her tone impossible to ignore. "You _need_ to get out of here and let them work!"

And so I do, stumbling my way out of the room and sagging against the wall of the corridor as my entire chest constricts with the fiercest panic I've felt in fourteen years.

_What the hell just happened?_

* * *

_**A/N: I'm sorry about the cliffhanger. Please don't freak out. This story ends a little before the Epilogue of "Determinant," so really, you already know what happens. :-)**_

_**And for the record, I am definitely not against C-sections. I had an emergency one with my daughter, when she went into distress, and it probably saved her life. I should have had one with my son, too, since he was about Eli's size, but we didn't know that at the time, so he was instead a very complicated VBAC with a LONG recovery time.**_

_**Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I have the rest of the story drafted out at this point, so it shouldn't be too long before the next chapter is posted (and yes, the story is definitely 57 chapters). Thanks!**_


	54. Chapter 54: Caleb - Waiting

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! The good news is that I've finished writing "Prior Rings," and Rosalie has finished proof-reading it for me. I just need to do the final tweaks and post the chapters, so I think I'll be able to post every other day until it's done. The bad news is that this chapter doesn't really answer the cliffhanger. Sorry...**_

_**WARNING: If you're in the late stages of a pregnancy, please be careful reading this chapter. If you're the type to internalize what you read easily, I would recommend waiting until after your delivery.**_

* * *

**Chapter 54: Caleb – Waiting**

**(Tris is 30, Caleb is 31, Tobias is almost 33, Abigail is 4 3/4, and Eli was just born)**

There are advantages to dating a doctor. Cara knows which of the practitioners are the best, and which ones to avoid. She can also get news whenever we need it. So, even though I know that Beatrice is in excellent hands today, I still ask Cara to check on her when I start to feel antsy at how long the surgery has lasted.

What I don't expect is for her to return, some twenty minutes later, leading a pale and utterly shell-shocked Tobias. She shakes her head quickly as we all rise and start toward them, and I can feel the fear and tension in the air when she leads him past us, gently seating him in one of the waiting room chairs. He's visibly shaking.

She turns to Zeke, murmuring, "Get Kevin." He hesitates only a second, his eyes begging for more information, before he nods. His expression is determined when he heads out.

Cara takes my arm, leading me to the side of the room, and Anna and Evelyn slip into place beside me, obviously as anxious to hear what's going on as I am. Suddenly, I'm glad that our other family and friends aren't waiting here right now – particularly Abigail.

"Eli was delivered fine," Cara says softly, her tone the soothing one of a doctor who's had to deliver difficult news before. "But Tris started hemorrhaging badly afterwards. They're trying to stop the bleeding."

"_Trying?_" Anna asks, the word strangled. "Just how much danger is she in, Cara?"

"It's…." Cara shakes her head a little, and I know she's struggling with the line between her personal feelings for her friend and her professional knowledge. "It's hard to say." She looks down, her expression answering more than her words. It makes my heart beat harder and my palms start to sweat.

I understand what she doesn't want to state aloud. It's very rare for women to die in childbirth these days – at least when they deliver in a good hospital instead of on the streets the way the factionless used to. But this is one of the conditions when it happens.

That's not something I want to admit, either, so instead I tell them, "Beatrice is strong." She's small, too, which means she doesn't have as much blood to lose as most people, but I choose to ignore that for the moment. "And she has the best obstetrician in the city." I bite my lip, wanting to reassure them that everything will be fine but unable to form the words through my own worry.

Pulling away a little, I turn my attention to Tobias. He's sitting forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging down, unsupported. I've never seen him look so defeated.

Except that's not quite true…. The memory comes to me unbidden, increasing my anxiety even more. A very long time ago, in the bomb shelter, he practiced doing a broadcast by showing me how he felt when they were executing Beatrice. He was in a cell in this very building, helpless, as he thought the woman he loved was dying.

The comparison is too much, and I find myself walking out the door before I can process what I'm doing. No one follows me.

My feet move on their own, roaming the long hallways that I've come to know so well. It's impossible not to think – I've never been able to shut it off. And under the circumstances, it's equally difficult not to remember every interaction I've ever had with Beatrice in this building.

I was sixteen, almost seventeen, the first time she came here, finding me in the library during initiation. At the time, I was fascinated by my new faction and so eager to fit into it, and I didn't want to be seen with my Abnegation-turned-Dauntless sister. I brushed her off, barely talking to her and not minding at all when she was taken into custody shortly afterwards.

Jeanine talked to her that day, and then to me. In retrospect, I know that she gave me a powerful dose of Suggestibility Serum at the time, but my memories don't include that. Instead, I remember being honored that she chose to spend time with me, and to tell me her plans. And I remember thinking that they made perfect sense, and wanting to follow them no matter what the cost might be to others.

I felt qualms over the next few months, of course, but seeing Jeanine always removed those. Conversations with her made it easy to betray Beatrice – to keep her imprisoned and to experiment on her and even to prepare for her execution.

It's hard to say exactly when my mind started to find its way out of the serum. The more time I spent with Beatrice, the clearer my thinking became, and somehow Peter helped, too. Every time I talked to him, I found myself questioning things more. That's why it made sense to turn to him when I finally realized that I didn't want to let my sister die.

He saved her life more than I did. He'd already been planning what to do, and all I had to do was help him with some of the mechanics – and agree to stay behind and take the blame if we were caught. He wasn't willing to do that part, needing to escape with them in order to be willing to take on the effort at all.

There are many things from that time in my life that I regret, many things that I would do differently if I could. But at least Beatrice didn't die from my mistakes.

She's lived fourteen years since then. That's time that she spent with me, and our grandmother, and the others who love her. She had a chance to get married and to have a daughter – and now a son. Her life has been good.

Even if she dies today, at least she had that. At least I didn't kill her before any of it happened.

_But I don't want her to die._

My thoughts are interrupted by voices from around the corner – deep ones that are carrying despite their hushed tones.

I recognize Tobias' mostly by the pain filling it. "How am I supposed to do that? I don't even know how to _look_ at him. If she…." He chokes on the word before trying again. "If she doesn't make it because of him, how will I ever love him?"

The words are almost like a physical blow, and I sag backwards a step, missing Kevin's answer. I've been walking these hallways, thinking about myself and what I've done to Beatrice, without even remembering that there's a little piece of her lying in the nursery here. He never meant to hurt his mother, but Tobias is right that if Beatrice dies, we'll all associate that with Eli.

As if he betrayed her, too.

For the second time today, my body moves on its own, heading toward the nephew who suddenly has too much in common with me. He and I both hurt the same woman – the one who shares half of our DNA – but he deserves far more than to be blamed for that.

The nurses let me into the nursery without argument, giving me sad looks as they gesture me toward the incubator where Eli is lying.

He's so much bigger than Abigail was, and for a few seconds, I just stare at him, uncertain if I should pick him up. But I spent enough time with my niece to have some instincts left, and they kick in when he starts to fuss. Scooping him gently up, I move to a chair at the side of the room, holding him close as I sit in it.

"Hi, Eli," I start, a bit awkwardly. "I'm your Uncle Caleb." He moves his head a little, in a seeking motion, and I wonder if he's hungry. A stab of pain goes through me at the thought that Beatrice would be nursing him right now, if circumstances were different.

"We have a lot in common, you know." My eyes are starting to fill, and I blink back the tears so they won't fall on him. "But I won't hold that against you." I try to chuckle, though it's weak. "I know your Mommy loves you, and she doesn't blame you for anything that…might happen to her. And I know that she wants us to take good care of you."

He fusses a little more, and I try to gently rock him. I'm not good at it.

"I'm going to always try to do that, okay? She's my sister, and I love her, and I'll always be there for you, too. I want you to know that."

The tears are falling now, despite my efforts, and I turn my head away so they drop onto my arm. I'm not sure how long I sit there like that, holding Eli as I cry and murmur reassurances to him. But eventually, I become aware that someone is standing nearby, watching us.

"Can I hold him?" Tobias' voice is sad, and strained, and fragile. _Human._ I look up, my eyes meeting his through the moisture in both of ours.

"It's not his fault," I say shakily.

"I know."

For a moment longer, I hold my nephew tight before I nod, rising slowly and extending Eli toward his father. Tobias takes him carefully, cradling him in his arms and staring at him with a depth of emotion that's hard to imagine.

"He has Tris' eyes." The words are choked, and he stumbles a little as he sits, holding his son to him.

We're both silent as he continues to stare. It's difficult to say what he's thinking.

"I don't know how to do this," he finally whispers. I'm not quite sure if he's addressing Eli or me, but I decide to answer.

"I don't, either." And then something that Beatrice once said comes to mind, and I remember the Abnegation teachings that I grew up learning, and something clicks into place between the two. "But I think that maybe we need to start by forgiving ourselves, so we can forgive him, too."

Tobias' gaze meets mine for a long time before he nods, very slowly.

"If Tris…." He clears his throat. "If I need help with him, will you be there?"

"Yes." My answer is instant.

He nods again, his eyes returning to his son. "Could you give me some time alone with him now?"

"Yes, of course." With one more glance at the two of them together, I make my way back to Cara and Anna, to wait for news about my sister.

_**A/N: The next chapter will hopefully be up on Friday. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this one. Thanks!**_


	55. Chapter 55: Tobias - Forgiveness

_**A/N: Wow - thank you all for the wonderful reviews from the last chapter! I really appreciate the support. Thank you also to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie; you have made this story much easier to write.**_

_**WARNING: A mild warning still applies to those who are in the last trimester of pregnancy. This chapter isn't as rough that way as the last two, but if you're the type to read something and worry about it happening to you, I'd avoid this chapter until after you deliver.**_

* * *

**Chapter 55: Tobias – Forgiveness**

**(Tris is 30, Caleb is 31, Tobias is almost 33, Abigail is 4 3/4, and Eli was just born)**

Caleb's words repeat over and over in my mind as I hold Eli, trying to make peace with my son. The irony is that I got my wish – he has Tris' eyes – and now I'm potentially going to be looking into them forever without her there.

It's an impossible thought to accept.

Objectively, I know that it's wrong to blame him. It's not like he set out to hurt her, and he'll suffer just as much from her loss as I will if she doesn't make it. But I can't help thinking that if he'd just been the same size as Abigail, none of this would have happened.

That might not be true, either, since I don't even know what went wrong. I just know that everything inside me hurts, and I somehow have to find my way through that to bond with this child. I don't know how.

Maybe Caleb is right. I've never been good at forgiving anyone, except maybe Tris. But I can't raise Eli if I blame him for…_this_.

And I can't abandon him the way my mother left me. For a long moment, I think about how Evelyn must have felt the day my sister was born. As she stared at Margaret the way I'm looking at Eli now, while she desperately tried to figure out a way around Marcus that would protect both of her children.

She faced an impossible decision that day, and I understand the choice she ultimately made, no matter how much it hurt me.

My breath catches as a thought abruptly occurs to me. Did she blame Margaret for forcing her into that position? For taking me away from her? Is that why she ended up neglecting her?

Is that the road I'm heading down?

Gently, I stroke Eli's head, soothing his fussiness. My sister was just a newborn then, the same way Eli is. It wasn't her fault, but I have to admit that deep inside me, there's still a terrified, grief-stricken nine-year-old who lost his mother that day. I thought she'd died in childbirth, and I hated the baby who'd killed her.

But I don't hate Margaret anymore, or my mother. I don't even wish any longer that my past could be changed. Without it, I might never have met Tris, or had the life I've had with her. Even if that ends today, it was worth _everything_ to have it.

So, for a moment, I let myself be that damaged boy, feeling his tears merge with my own, and then I let him go. He belongs to my past.

And for the first time, I find it in myself to truly forgive my mother and sister. With the decision, I feel a tugging through my chest, as if a weight has been lifted. I hadn't realized how heavy my residual anger was, but there's a deep peace in releasing it.

Again, Caleb's words go through my mind, and my thoughts return to him. He was only sixteen or seventeen when Jeanine drugged him, and he betrayed Tris. That feels so young now, even though Tris was younger than that when I put her in charge of an entire country.

He helped her a lot with that task, and he did everything he could to keep her safe during the year we were apart. And today, when I was mired in my own dark thoughts, he was the one who came here to see Eli. To be there for him the way _I_ should have been.

Caleb forgave me a long time ago, but today is when I return the favor. He's my brother-in-law, and my children's uncle, and I don't want to be angry at him anymore – not even a little.

Letting go of that inevitably brings my thoughts to Peter. Ever since they rescued Tris from Erudite, they've been connected in my mind. And with a jolt, I realize that they're the same age. They were both kids, really, at the time they did that, and even younger when they hurt Tris.

I remember being that age, so afraid of my father and so anxious to escape. Amar took me under his wing and helped me learn to channel my aggression and to try to help others. If he hadn't been there for me, I don't know how I would have turned out. Maybe I would have been as bad as Peter, with no ability to be selfless because the impulse was associated with nothing but pain.

For fourteen years now, I've blamed Peter for something he did almost half his lifetime ago. He hasn't done anything since then to make me hate him, but I've held onto that anger anyway. I think of my promise to him almost five years ago – to try to forgive him if he stayed in support for ten years. He's still there, but I'm not willing to wait that long anymore. He deserves a second chance.

With a deep breath, I manage to give him one.

And for the very first time, it truly sinks in that I've earned that opportunity, too. I'm not the same person I was when I broke Tris' ribs. I've spent almost a decade and a half proving that to myself, and ensuring that I would _never_ repeat that behavior. Even now, knowing that I might lose her today, I'm certain that I won't be that kind of parent to my children. I'm worried that I won't be able to love Eli, not that I'll abuse him.

The person I am today deserves to be forgiven, and I find myself shaking as I somehow find a way to do that. If I'm given more time with Tris, it will be without that baggage. _Please let me have that time._

My cheeks are wet as I focus my gaze on Eli again, and I'm startled by the strength of the emotion I feel. He's _my son_. Tris' son. He has her eyes, and my dark hair, and the same cheekbones as Abigail. He has part of everyone I love in him, and suddenly I know that it's enough. No matter what happens to Tris, he will always be our son, and there is no way that I _won't_ love him.

Lifting him up a little more, I hold him close to my chest, rocking him gently back and forth. Whatever comes, we'll get through it together, my family and I.

* * *

I'm not sure how long I sit there, cradling Eli as he sleeps. But eventually, Zeke comes in, looking wild and out of breath from running. The sight immobilizes me with panic until he grins widely.

"She's out of surgery. She's okay."

I'm on my feet instantly, adrenaline warring with relief in a strange effect that leaves my muscles rigid and limp at the same time.

"Can you take him?" I ask, suddenly reluctant to hand Eli to a nurse I don't even know.

Zeke nods as he picks my son up gently, holding him in one arm. He gives me a rough embrace with the other. "Go get her."

It's a short run back to the waiting room, since I don't know where else to go, and then Cara is grabbing my arm and rushing me through the corridors to a recovery room. It's filled with curtained areas, and I see other patients behind them as she leads me halfway down the aisle.

We both stop at the same time, and for a few seconds, I can't move as I stare at my wife's face. She's still unconscious, looking small as she lies on the hospital bed. But her chest is rising and falling regularly, and her heart monitor is beating steadily. _She's alive._

There is no better feeling in the world.

My body knows the way to her, and my fingers trace her lips and her cheeks for a moment, and then I'm burying my face in her hair.

"Tris," I moan softly.

Behind me, I'm faintly aware that Cara has pulled the curtain shut, leaving me alone with my wife, and I'm grateful for the small amount of privacy it gives us. Because this day has suddenly become too much, and I find myself sobbing outright into Tris' hair.

I don't even remember the last time I cried like this, but the stress and the fear and the relief combine into a sensation that won't come out any other way, and I grip her tightly as I let the feelings go.

"I love you, Tris," I repeat over and over, my voice thick with tears. "I love you so much."

Eventually, I feel her starting to stir, and I draw back enough to see her, wiping my face and pulling myself together so I don't scare her. Her eyes open, flitting around in panicked confusion before landing on me.

"What happened?" Her voice is hoarse and groggy.

My fingers caress her cheek again. "You started bleeding, but you're okay now."

"Eli?" she asks, looking around more wildly now, and I realize that she has no idea if he's safe.

"He's fine. Zeke has him right now, but he's fine."

She's staring at me like she's not sure she believes me, probably because it's obvious that I've been crying.

"Can I see him?"

"Yes." I manage a small smile as I trace her jawline, unable to keep my hands off her. "Very soon, I'm sure. But you're still in the recovery room. We probably have to wait until you're in a regular room."

She frowns, still looking worried.

"Is he really okay?"

"Tris, he's absolutely perfect. You're the one who isn't. Wasn't." I lean forward, kissing her lightly before resting my forehead on hers. "We almost lost you."

The words clearly surprise her. "I don't remember," she whispers. "They delivered him, and you went to check on him, and then I woke up here." She hesitates before adding, "There's nothing in between."

I run my fingers lightly over her hair, stroking it soothingly. As terrifying as this time has been for me, I wonder if it's even worse for her. To know that she could have died just like that, without even seeing it coming. Here one moment and gone the next.

"You were unconscious," I say a bit lamely.

She nods hesitantly. "Am I all right now?"

"Yes." I pull back again so she can see my eyes and can tell that I mean it. "Everything is good now." My fingers twine with hers. "More than that, actually." The first real smile in what feels like forever makes its way onto my face. "My wife and my kids are all safe, and that makes everything perfect, Tris."

* * *

_**A/N: Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this chapter. The story is getting close to the end - only two more chapters. I hope to post the next one on Sunday.**_

_**Two other notes:**_

_**1\. In case it isn't obvious from my stories, I have strong opinions about domestic violence and our need to address it as a society. Toward that goal, there's currently a problem with Google posting the location of shelters that are supposed to be secret, allowing abusers to find the people who are trying to hide from them. There's a petition asking Google to stop this practice, and I'm hoping many of you will sign it. I can't post the direct link here or ff will strip it, but if you google "change org google-inc-remove-maps-to-secret-domestic-violence-shelters" it will come up as the first link. Please read it, and if you find it reasonable, please sign it.**_

_**2\. For those who are reading "Bitter Cold" but don't have accounts to let you follow it directly, Muggle Sarah just updated it. :-)**_


	56. Chapter 56: Tris - Children

_**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and to my fantastic beta reader, Rosalie!**_

_**WARNING: A mild warning still applies to those who are in the last trimester of pregnancy. This chapter provides an explanation of what went wrong, so if you're the type to read something and worry about it happening to you, I'd avoid this chapter until after you deliver.**_

* * *

**Chapter 56: Tris – Children**

**(Tris is 30, Caleb is 31, Tobias is almost 33, Abigail is 4 3/4, and Eli was just born)**

Dr. Martinez seems tired and serious when she enters my recovery area.

"It's good to see you awake," she comments as she checks the readings on the myriad machines that are connected to me and then starts listening to different parts of my abdomen with her stethoscope. "You gave us all a good scare."

"So I gather," I mutter, looking at Tobias again. I'm still too groggy to assess my condition accurately, but it must have been bad for his face to be this red and splotchy. And for him to be keeping a constant hand on me, as if he's afraid I'll vanish if he lets go. "What exactly happened?"

The doctor's mouth flattens as she stands back, making eye contact for the first time since walking through the curtain. "You developed a condition that we call uterine atony, where the uterus fails to contract enough to stop the bleeding after childbirth. The condition causes hemorrhaging, which became severe in your case."

She sighs. "It's probably a good thing that we were doing a Caesarean. If you had had that level of bleeding after a vaginal birth, I'm not sure we could have stopped it in time."

It's a sobering statement, and beside me, I can feel Tobias stiffen, his hand tightening on mine.

"I guess it's a good thing Eli was so big," I murmur, realizing that he indirectly saved my life that way.

Dr. Martinez purses her lips, debating that. "Maybe. His size might have been a factor in the atony, though it might have occurred anyway. There's no way to be sure. But overall, I suppose if he was going to be large, it was better for him to be large enough to require surgery."

She pauses, her expression serious, and I realize that she's about to add something that she'd rather not say. It makes my insides squeeze uncomfortably.

"The bleeding was truly severe, and extremely difficult to stop. We did everything possible, including giving you multiple blood transfusions, but ultimately we had to perform an emergency hysterectomy. I'm sorry."

It's a straight-forward statement, but it takes a moment to sink into my fuzzy head. When it does, the word echoes all the way through me. _Hysterectomy._

"We were able to leave your ovaries in place," she continues, though I barely hear her at this point. "So, your hormone levels will remain normal."

"I can't have any more children?" I blurt out, interrupting her. I can't focus past that thought.

"I'm sorry," she says again, looking like she genuinely means it, "but no."

We're all silent as I try to make sense of this. I haven't even seen Eli yet, and any possibility of giving him another sibling has already been removed.

Vaguely, I realize that Dr. Martinez is talking again, but I can't process any more. Images keep floating through me of what might have been, both better and worse than the reality I'm facing. I don't understand how this happened.

Eventually, the doctor pats me reassuringly on the arm, says something final to Tobias, and leaves the two of us alone. I watch the curtain ripple shut behind her, feeling like it's the door that has just been closed in my life.

"Tris," Tobias says softly, moving his free hand to cup my cheek. "This doesn't change anything, you know. Not really."

My eyes turn to him, but I can't seem to come up with words. How can this _not_ change things?

His voice is thick as he continues. "After today, there's no way I would have risked another child anyway. This just keeps me from having to get a vasectomy." He gives a crooked half-smile. "And I don't mind skipping that."

But I shake my head, looking away. None of this feels real. We're supposed to be celebrating Eli right now, not talking about hysterectomies and vasectomies and the lack of all future children.

"You don't mean that," I finally manage to say.

Tobias' answer is insistent. "Yes, I do." He tilts my face toward him as he leans closer, leaving me no choice but to meet his gaze again. "We always said that we'd only have kids when both of us wanted them, and I am _done_, Tris. I would have scheduled the vasectomy before going home."

I don't know how to respond. He _loves_ being a father. It's why he suggested having a second child, and there's no guarantee that he won't feel that same desire in a few years. He shouldn't be denied that opportunity because of me.

"What if you want another one later?" I whisper. "What then?"

"Tris." He sighs, rubbing his thumb in circles over my cheekbone. "I just want _you_. You and Abigail and Eli. You're more than enough for me. Can't we be enough for you, too?"

His dark blue eyes hold me, challenging and entreating at the same time – making me think. In many ways, he's right. We have two healthy children – a girl and a boy, even. It's not like I was planning to have more. In fact, I had pretty much decided against it already. But somehow, that doesn't make this moment any easier.

"I just wanted it to be our choice," I admit quietly. "Not have it be made…like _this_."

He nods. "I know." His voice is soft now, too. "But we'll get through this. We'll be okay. And if we ever do want more kids, we can look at adopting. That worked well for Margaret."

The comment reaches through my uncertainty, changing my thoughts again. His sister was certainly better off with her adoptive parents than her birth ones, and despite all the improvements we've made in the city, there are undoubtedly still children in need out there. Tobias is right that we could adopt if we want. The selfless part of me says we should have considered that sooner.

Slowly, I nod, letting myself be soothed by his words, and by the continued circles his thumb is tracing on my cheek. They don't take away all the pain, but they ease some of the ache that's running through my insides.

As my mind stops racing, the fatigue draws me in again. Whatever medication they have me on seems to be dragging me down, making me sleepier by the minute and adding to the disconnected feeling that's causing everything to seem unreal.

I'm vaguely aware of Tobias kissing me lightly, his hand stroking my hair as he whispers that he loves me, but it's all I can do to murmur the words back before my eyes droop closed again. And I sleep.

* * *

I'm awakened gradually by a nurse checking my vital signs. There seems to be a sizable fog inside my head, but it clears slowly as he moves around me, measuring my pulse and then shining a light into my eyes.

Behind him, Tobias' low voice rumbles, asking when they'll be able to move me to a regular room. I try to add to that, to say that I want to see my son, but my throat is too dry to speak, and all that comes out is a small croak.

"Are you thirsty, Tris?" the nurse asks, giving me a reassuring smile. At my nod, he adds, "I'm going to sit you up a little more so you can drink, okay?"

I'm not prepared for the cramping and discomfort that go through my entire abdomen when he raises the head of the bed. Without the medication that's blurring my thoughts, I'm sure it would be a far sharper pain, but it's still enough to tell me that this is going to be a difficult recovery.

But Tobias grips my hand firmly, and I squeeze back, and his strength gets me through it. He gives me a small smile as he holds a cup up for me, extending the straw toward my lips. "I know you hate accepting help," he murmurs so only I can hear, "but right now you're just going to deal with it and drink, all right?"

My eyes meet his, and I can feel the corner of my mouth tugging upwards. He's right that I hate feeling this helpless, but he's also right that this isn't the time to complain about it. So, I accept the straw and sip the fluid slowly. It's sweet and thick, but it feels wonderful on my parched throat.

When I'm done, I let my body sag back against the mattress as my gaze finds the nurse. "So, when can I see my baby?"

* * *

The move to the regular hospital room feels surreal, partly because I'm still groggy and weak from the surgery and partly because all of the medical staff look at me like I'm a ghost. As if they're amazed to see me still alive. It reminds me of walking into Abnegation so long ago, after Jeanine broadcast my execution.

The hardest part is watching Tobias. He doesn't leave my side or let go of my hand, and it's clear that he went through hell and back today worrying about me. I hate that I made him feel that way, even though I don't think there's anything I could have done to prevent it.

It doesn't help that I still haven't seen Eli. The delay makes me antsier and antsier the longer it lasts, despite Tobias' reassurances that everything is fine. He's the last child I'll ever have, and I _need_ to see him for myself.

So, it's a relief when a nurse wheels a portable bassinet into the room the moment I'm settled into it. "You can keep him here with you for as long as you like," she assures us, smiling gently. "Just press the Call button if you need us to take him back to the nursery so you can rest."

Right now, I can't imagine ever wanting to do that, and I strain to sit up straighter so I can see inside the bassinet as she moves it closer.

"It's going to be difficult for you to hold him at first," she explains as she stops just outside my reach. "And I don't want you trying yet. You should be able to carry him in a couple of weeks, but not until then – and nothing heavier than him until six weeks post-op. Your body has been through a lot."

For a second, I glare at her mutinously, not willing to accept that I can't hold my own baby yet. But the larger part of me knows that she's right. I can't even sit all the way up right now, let alone walk, and the pain medication is making me too drowsy to trust my arm strength.

It shouldn't surprise me by now that Tobias knows exactly what to do. Wordlessly, he takes Eli from the bassinet, cradling our son in one arm while he pulls a chair to the side of the bed and sits in it. Leaning forward, he holds Eli beside my chest, where I can see him and touch him without any risk of him kicking my abdomen.

It's exactly what I need, and I let my eyes take in every inch of my baby while my fingers gently stroke his cheeks that look just like Abigail's, and his dark, curly hair, and his hands and feet that are still wrinkled from being in the womb.

"He's so big," I whisper. I mean, I knew he would be, of course, since that's why he had to be delivered the way he was, but somehow I didn't expect him to be _this_ big.

"Ten pounds, one ounce," Tobias says softly, and I shake my head in awe. Abigail was three months old when she weighed that much.

But despite his size, he's absolutely perfect, and I can't seem to stop staring at him. He moves a little, fussing, and opens his eyes just enough for me to see them. A smile touches every part of me as I see my own gray-blue orbs reflected back at me. Tobias got his wish.

"He has my eyes."

My husband nods before leaning down and kissing our son's temple lightly. "That didn't prove to be my greatest wish for today, but I'm glad it came true, too."

Eli turns his head in a seeking motion as his lips begin moving reflexively, and I know he's hungry.

"How do I nurse him?" I ask, suddenly realizing that this is going to be difficult with a baby this size while I have to be so protective of my abdomen.

But Tobias answers without hesitation. "It's simple. I'll hold him." For a second, I just stare at him, but he shrugs. "It's not like I want to let either of you out of my sight for a very long time, anyway."

The words connect to something deep inside me, and in that moment, I finally feel like everything will be okay. Today certainly didn't go the way we wanted, but we're still here, together, and that's all that really matters. As long as we have each other, we will always find a way to make the rest of life work.

* * *

My first thought when I see Abigail is how _tall_ she is. I've been spending the last few hours comparing Eli to how big she was at birth, and to suddenly see her at age four again is a little startling.

"Mommy!" she calls eagerly, but Caleb keeps his grip on her hand, stopping her from running to me.

"Remember, you have to be very gentle," he tells her kindly. "Mommy is going to need time to heal before she can play with you like she normally does." He gives her a gentle smile that reminds me of growing up in Abnegation. "But she'll be fine soon."

Abigail nods seriously, walking hesitantly over and giving me a sweet, careful hug that brings tears to my eyes. How did I ever get lucky enough to have a family like this?

"Hi, Daddy," Abigail whispers, clearly thinking that she has to be quiet and gentle with all of us. It makes Tobias smile, and he pulls her into an abrupt bear hug.

"Hi, Abigail," he answers in his deepest voice, the one that always makes her giggle, and I hear her laugh as he kisses her cheek before releasing her.

"Would you like to meet your brother?" he asks.

She nods eagerly. "Uh-huh."

Tobias leads her to the other side of the bed, to where Eli is lying in his hospital bassinet. He takes up practically the entire thing.

"He's sleeping right now," Tobias explains, "but you'll be able to hold him a little later."

Abigail contemplates him for a few seconds. "He doesn't look that big." She turns to Caleb questioningly, and I realize that he must have been going on about my son's size.

He gives her a wry smile, but I answer before he can. "All babies are smaller than you are now, honey, but he's much larger than you were at that age."

"Oh." She returns her gaze to her brother. "Brianna says that her little brother doesn't do _anything_ fun. He just lies there and cries and poops." She looks up at Tobias. "Is Eli going to be like that?"

My husband chuckles. "Some of the time, yes. Babies do a lot of that. But he'll do some fun things soon enough." Leaning down to her height, he adds more quietly, "Besides, he's already done something very important."

Abigail looks up, intrigued. "What did he do?"

Tobias' voice is solemn. "He got the doctors to operate on Mommy when none of us knew she needed them to. And that kept her safe." He rubs her back gently. "So, you see, he's kind of a hero."

It's not an entirely true statement, but it's a great take on the day's events, and I can't help smiling when I hear it. Beside me, I can see Caleb grinning, too.

But Abigail's reaction is far better. She turns her wide eyes on me for a second before staring at her brother. "Wow," she whispers, awed. Leaning over the bassinet, she adds very softly, "Thank you, Eli. I think you're going to be the best little brother ever."

It's a beautiful way to end a largely terrible day.

_**A/N: Only one chapter left... I expect to post it on Tuesday. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I really appreciate all of your support through the process of writing this story! Also, for those who have been asking what's next after this story and "Becoming Determinant," I'm going to post a poll on my fanfiction net Profile page listing the stories that I'm considering writing. Please check them out and vote on your favorite(s) if you're inclined. :-)**_


	57. Chapter 57: Tobias - Prior Rings

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story, and to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie! This is the very last chapter, and I couldn't have gotten here without your support.**_

**Chapter 57: Tobias – Prior Rings**

**(Tris is 30, Tobias is almost 33, Abigail is 4 3/4, and Eli is a newborn)**

If I had any doubts that what happened to Tris was extremely unusual, they would have been wiped out by Dr. Martinez's obvious concern in the days afterwards. She refuses to let Tris go home, saying that she needs to be near the hospital in case anything goes wrong with her recovery.

That worry makes it impossible for me to leave my wife's side, so I end up sleeping in the room with her and Eli while Christina continues to watch Abigail. But it's not a great solution, and the longer it lasts, the more frustrated Tris and I both get. We miss our daughter.

It's a relief when Caleb proposes a solution on the fifth day – letting us use his apartment in Erudite while he stays with Cara. So, our family of four takes up temporary residence there, cramming into the small space and getting to know our newest member while Tris slowly heals. It's a tight fit, but it's certainly better than being separated, and we end up making it work until Eli is six weeks old, and the doctor finally agrees that Tris can resume normal activities.

That's when it becomes obvious just how much our faction-mates missed us. The entire group participates in moving us back home, in getting our apartment ready again, and in cleaning Caleb's. George even borrows a friend's car, insisting on giving us a ride so Tris doesn't have to face the long walk.

They welcome us back in style, too, with banners and cake and an official announcement that they're covering our faction chores for another month. I'm not sure when I became willing to admit, even to myself, that I love every single person in my faction, but it's impossible to deny that at this moment. I've never felt closer to them.

Still, that doesn't mean I'm not happy to say goodnight to them all at the end of the day. It's an incredible feeling to finally be alone with Tris and our children in _our_ home.

In some ways, it's even sweeter to get the kids to bed and to be with just my wife for what feels like the first time in ages. I can't help staring at her as she moves around our room, running her fingertips along the photo frames as she smiles at the images in them.

It's when she reaches one of our wedding photos that I realize there's something I want to do. My feet move on their own, taking me to our dresser and to the small box of important items we keep there. I open it, pulling out Tris' ring, which she had to remove during her third trimester when her hands became too swollen to wear it.

She meets my gaze as I turn toward her, holding the metal band carefully between my fingers.

"Can I put this on you again?" I ask, suddenly feeling almost shy.

"I'm pretty sure I'd be open to that." The corners of her mouth tug upwards. "Seeing as we're married and all."

I stop closer to her, returning her smile but also feeling something more serious. "I've never been happier about that," I tell her honestly, holding her gaze as I take her left hand in mine. "But I think a few words might be in order for this occasion."

Her smile deepens, reaching her eyes, and I stare into the grayish-blue swirls that I love so much.

"Sometimes, I don't think you realize how much you've changed me, Tris." My fingers reach out on their own, tucking her hair behind her ear so I can see her better. "You taught me how to love, and how to extend that to others. And then you gave me two incredible kids to love."

I shake my head a little, awed, as I so often am, by her. "At our wedding, I told you that you were it for me, and that's still true. If anything happened to you, I'd be there for our children, and I'd love them and be happy with them. But _this_…." I hold the ring up. "_This_ part of me belongs only to you. It always has, and it always will."

Bringing the ring to her left hand, I slide it carefully into place. "So, this is still _always_, Tris."

There are tears in her eyes as she stands on tiptoe, pressing her lips to mine. I don't hesitate to return the kiss, pulling her to me and feeling once again how perfectly our bodies fit together.

"I can't imagine my life without you, Tobias," she whispers against my skin. "And I don't want to try." She kisses me again as her fingers link with mine, pressing against my ring the way I'm pressing against hers as we feel the way they join us together.

"You're my always, too. My husband. My lover. My friend. My _family_." I smile as my eyes move to her heart, to where I know the raven that represents me is tattooed. "And I will always love you."

The words carry all the way through me, as they do every time. No matter how often she says them, they're still the best thing I could ever imagine hearing. And I respond with the statement that I will never tire of saying.

"I love you, too, Tris."

**The End**

* * *

_**A/N: I know this was a short chapter, but it felt like the right place to end the story. There will not be an epilogue, since this story leads into the epilogue of "Determinant." However, as I mentioned in my final A/N on that story, I will add an additional epilogue from Tris' POV to "Determinant" if that story ever reaches 2,000 reviews. (It's less than 100 away now, so that might happen yet.)**_

_**At any rate, I really hope you enjoyed "Prior Rings." If you've gotten this far with me, please take a moment to let me know what you thought of it. Your reviews, favorites, and follows mean a lot to me, and I truly appreciate the way you've all supported me throughout this story!**_

_**If you're curious about what I'll be working on next, please check out the poll on my fanfiction net Profile page. If you're a member of the ff site, you can vote in that poll. Otherwise, you can "vote" by telling me your choice(s) in a review here or on any of my other stories. Please make sure to mention the story names, not numbers, though, since they appear in a random order for each person who views them. :-)**_

_**Thanks again!**_

_**~ Windchimed**_


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